


Me And The Moon

by myracingthoughts



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Confinement, Developing Relationship, Empath, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mutants, Post-Endgame, Shovel Talk, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 36,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25788982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myracingthoughts/pseuds/myracingthoughts
Summary: Families aren’t always born or married into, sometimes they’re found.In the shadow of their losses, a car crash and a curious case bring together a soldier, a witch and a girl.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Wanda Maximoff
Comments: 54
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

  


All Bucky Barnes could see was a trail of smoke and exhaust peeking out between the gaping hole in the guardrail. Yards away, past the still-slick asphalt and the tire skids veering off, a silver sedan lay on its roof, wheels still spinning towards the sky.

“Jesus, Barnes. I told you—”

“How was I supposed to know they’d fly off the road?”

“—What about the person in the back seat, man? We don’t even know if they’re involved. You should’ve been more careful.”

“Yeah, well next time _you_ can drive, then.”

Throwing the car in park at the side of the road, they were halfway out of the vehicle by the time Sam finished his thought. Bucky clutched his shoulder with his opposite hand, pulling his hand back to find blood. Barely a scratch, so he brushed it off on the denim of his pant leg on moved on. 

Guns drawn and at the ready, they both climbed through the torn metal and down a short hill. Bucky’s boots sunk into the mud as they trudged towards the flipped vehicle.

The car groaned and hissed in front of them, along with the upside-down occupants (who thankfully weren’t coming to anytime soon). It gave them a chance to case the scene. He and Sam circled the vehicle, Bucky taking the passenger side and peering in to confirm status. Two sat in the front of the car — those they expected — looking a little more beat-up than the picture in their files.

“Out like a light,” he heard Sam call over the vehicle.

A brief check on the passenger showed cueball unconscious in the front seat, his leg seemingly trapped under smashed metal. He reached in and quickly disarmed him, finding two knives and a gun before immediately ejecting the magazine and chucking it towards some nearby trees.

“Yeah, this one looks pinned.”

That was good, that meant they had time to figure out their mystery guest. Whoever was in the backseat; that was the wildcard.

Sam and him’d been staking these guys out for a week with tails, surveillance, even a couple bugs. The works. And not one peep from a third person. No driver, no meals for three, not a fucking _whiff_ of a third to account for, which all told meant whoever it was hiding or being hidden, for some reason or another. 

You didn’t need to be an assassin to connect those dots.

He heard Sam’s hiss before he could lock his eyes on the sight himself, “Christ.”

A limp body lay on the roof of the car arms outstretched overhead as if locked in place. Because they were. Handcuffs circled both wrists, the chain between each laced through the handlebar above the window. Poor girl must have gone for a ride in the rollover. And looking at the size of her…couldn’t have been older than sixteen at most. 

His stomach lurched at how and why a kid ended up in the hands of these two triggermen.

Especially in this condition.

“Hostage?” 

It was the only word he could form, trying to keep tactical so he could stop focusing on whether the girl was breathing.

“If she’s lucky… There was no sign of another person,” Sam stated the obvious, way behind the learning curve, without really touching Bucky’s question. “Why would they—?”

“I don’t know if I want to know,” Bucky groused. “We need to call ahead for medical.”

Sam seemed to hesitate, “Shouldn’t we call an ambulance? “

Bucky rolled his eyes and looked at him from under the brim of his cap as he drawled, “You wanna deal with the paperwork on this?”

“Nah,” Sam said almost as quickly. “Good call, we’ll take her back with us. And these assholes?”

Bucky looked down at his cellphone screen and could already see back-up incoming; their location plotted and flashing on the map. He typed in a message to the air team, warning them to come prepared to handle medical —not for themselves, for once.

“QuinJet’s two minutes out,” Bucky called out, prying open the door to the backseat.

“Not even buckled in,” Sam gave a low whistle. “It’s a wonder she—“

He didn’t even want to entertain the thought, so Bucky reached down and pulled off the handlebar before freeing the unnaturally angled arms from the painfully tight cuffs. Holding her gingerly to his chest, he tried not to think of how light she was, how easy it was for him to lift her, and how unconscious she had to be for her head to loll over like that. He winced slightly at the contact, his bullet graze flaring, but he didn’t waver in the hold.

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Bucky warned, pressing his fingers against her pulse for any sign because the worry in his head wouldn’t stop firing. The thump beneath his fingertips unclenched his jaw slightly, and he let out a short sigh of relief. “I’ve got her.”

Adjusting his grip, he noticed the rings around her wrists were a dark purple. He had to fight back a growl at the sight.

He was just backing himself out of the car when the telltale whirr of a QuinJet overhead grabbed their attention. They watched as the craft touched down into the grass. An agent ran down the ramp before the propellers had even stopped, a stretcher trailing beside her.

Bucky stared down the girl in his arms, black hair matted with blood. Afraid to move her too much himself, he waited for Exeter to catch up to them and prep the stretcher.

“Do we know—?”

“No.”

Bucky’s gruff response seemed enough for her, and once she quickly strapped the girl in, she rushed back onto the jet. Wilson might as well have been tapping his toes in the background.

“We getting these guys or?” Sam sassed him with a wave towards the car.

In response, Bucky tore off the passenger door and tossed asshole number two over his shoulder. He would have dragged him through the literal mud, but he didn’t feel like dealing with the mess. And it might further aggravate his shoulder. But what he’d seen in the back seat wasn’t helping his anger, and he was hoping to take it out on these bastards in some form.

On second thought.

He made sure to toss the asshole harder than necessary into the holding area on board, listening for the satisfying clunk as his skull hit the reinforced walls of the room. It didn’t make him feel any better, but at least he wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.

Sam managed to wrangle the other dickhead into a secondary area, grunting at the dead weight in his grip, “You could’ve helped, you know.”

Bucky shot him a look before plopping himself down in a seat across from the stretcher and settled in for the ride. Watched as Exeter strapped in the young girl in front fo them.

“Ready for lift-off?” Clint called from the pilot’s seat.

“Aye aye.”

The girl didn’t stir the entire trip back to the compound. Agent Exeter kept a close watch on her, cataloguing the marks and injuries on her tablet screen so the team back at home base would have up-to-the-minute information before they even landed.

“Did the assholes purposely run themselves off the road or?” her less-than-kind tone came as she examined the poor girl’s head wound, setting Bucky’s teeth on edge.

Sam looked like he was ready to roll his eyes, but he didn’t throw Bucky under the bus like he probably deserved. He desperately hoped he hadn’t made anything worse.

“You think they’ll talk?” Sam asked, thumbing towards the onboard holding cells.

“With me? They’ll goddamn sing,” Bucky promised with a sneer. “I’m sure they’d sell their friends for a whiff of making it outta an interrogation room in one piece.”

His eyes darted to the IV bag, the monitors and the beeping machines with flashing controls.

The scene in front of Bucky was getting to be uncomfortable, and as much as he wanted to — felt an obligation to —keep watch over the kid, Exeter knew what she was doing. There was nothing he could do at this point to make anything better. Suddenly feeling restless and feeling a little useless, he ambled to the copilot seat and slumped in.

“They had a kid just hanging out in the back seat?”

Barton might not have known just how right his words were, but he sounded about as angry as Bucky felt. The tone came as a surprise to him, rarely used in the field. Barton was always level, if not exuberant most days. But it made sense; he had kids himself at home.

“News to me too,” Bucky sighed. “You saw the reports. Not a peep.”

“Not a good sign,” Clint groused knowingly with a shake of his head. “You OK?”

Was he? Being angry wasn’t new; neither were heartless bad guys with god complexes doing evil shit. But this one felt different for some reason, that train of thought lingering at the back of his mind like a spectre. Was she experimented on? Were they messing around with enhanced kids? Is that what was bothering him so much about this?

“I’ll be better when I get the full story.”

Barton was a smart guy, and as much as he liked to push people’s buttons and play dumb, he understood when it wasn’t worth pushing an issue. He had his own shit, his own problems. Lost his mentor, his partner, his mind. It wasn’t Bucky’s story to tell, but he knew it anyway. 

With what little was left of the original team, between retirements and relocations, they’d established a pretty open book policy. It helped, on those shitty days, when he just wanted to hide from the world. He’d at least know everyone at the compound understood and would keep their distance.

He hoped today wouldn’t be one of those days, but considering how it was going so far…

The flight back to the compound was quick enough, Barton radioing in ahead to make sure they were getting a live feed for Exeter for medical. There were no peeps from the peanut gallery, and Sam managed to keep his mouth shut, so all in all, it was a pretty successful mission — minus the rollover and their new mystery. 

Now all he had to do was get through Hill’s idea of a debrief.

* * *

Two hours and a whole lot of paperwork later, Bucky was free of Hill’s questioning. She’d spent way too long going over the entire car chase and chiding him for the accident. Made for a problematic cleanup, she said. Local law enforcement already hated them, she added. 

He couldn’t give a damn, considering he managed to get both suspects and the mystery kid back to base without reloading his gun. Didn’t know where she was trained, but in his book, that was called a win.

Still, feeling a little guilty, he decided to go check on the kid in medical, see if the doctors had learned anything more. He found her in a private room, no name on the door. She was still out, hooked up to all sorts of wires and IVs, beeping machines, and stale-smelling linens. Just as pale as when he found her.

Her black hair was a mess, tangled and kinked in all sorts of directions, and he found himself pushing it back out of her face gently. Between Steve and Rebecca, he’d been in this position before, more times than he would’ve liked. But this one, at the hands of two assholes who had no business doing whatever it was they were, felt different.

He spotted the finger twitch in his peripheral vision before the eye flutter, quickly grasping her hand in the hope of her waking up. He watched her face scrunch and hand come up to meet it.

“Hey,” he tried to put on his comforting voice, the one he used with Barton’s kids. “You’re alright, you’re safe.”

Wide green eyes met him in a rush, panicked as his whole body went rigid at the sight of him. 

She didn’t open her mouth, yet he could somehow hear a scream. But, like he was plunged into water, it warbled around him. Bucky was suddenly submerged in ice-cold, heart racing as he struggled to regulate his breathing. He clutched his chest, trying to knock some sense into him as the short spurts were starting to cloud his vision, edges darkening. Managing to back himself into the opposite side of the room, Bucky dropped to his knees, gasping for air.

The machines were blaring, his heartbeat deafening, the room tiny. He knew this feeling, this sensation, but _why_? 

There was no way anything set off this kind of reaction. He hadn’t had a panic attack in months. He wasn’t triggered. 

There was no reason—

 _The girl_.

The realization hit him as he looked over at the flailing body in the bed, now crying out, sobbing, struggling to get out. Somewhere in his shaky vision, he spotted a nurse rush in, managing somehow to press a sedative into her IV before she crumpled on the ground in front of the girl. The crying stopped, the thrashing stilled, and all that was left were the two adults collapsed on the floor.

Eyes clenched shut, Bucky managed to get his heart back to a natural rhythm. It took a few seconds for his vision to settle into a straight line, eyes fixed on the nurse trying to lift herself off the floor, hand over heart. She was rattled; they both were, bodies shaking, eyes wide, and hearts still racing.

“What the hell was that?” her breathless question sounded like a jackhammer in his head.

He walked towards the bed, looking down at the now sleeping girl tangled in the bedsheets. Hands in fists, rich jewel tones littering her skin in a kaleidoscope of bruises, face screwed up in pain. She’d managed to rip some of the wires off herself, still clutching the IV with her opposite hand as if it had been next to go.

How could this little girl bring them both down and almost make a run for it? They missed something big here. A few somethings, he was starting to think.

Bucky blurted the words out before he could even process the inevitable thought. 

“She’s enhanced.”


	2. Chapter 2

He was turning into Steve.

The realization was setting in more and more each day. But there was something about this mission, about that girl, that would have set off his friend just as much. At least that’s what Bucky tried to tell himself as the third punching bag crossed the floor via his fist. He’d barely broken a sweat, though—heavy breathing and the weight in his chest aside.

His therapist told him this would happen, that some cases would set him off more than others. Sometimes even spark a physical reaction, she said. It wasn’t that these kinds of crimes were morally worse — wrong was wrong after all — but that it hit too close to home. 

Captives, human experimentation, brainwashing… all things he’d dealt with himself, knew the pain of, still felt at night in those awful dreams. 

The image of that girl slumped in the back seat rang through his head all day, bruises, scars, still-healing wounds somehow all catalogued in his brain like some sick interactive mission report. He could hazard a guess at how long she’d been in those cuffs, how many of those wounds had been defensive, and why she had blood under her fingernails. 

He could tell because he’d been on both sides of this equation; the captor and the captive.

All through debrief, they echoed on and off, bouncing through the inside of his skull in a futile attempt to piece together the scene. Figure out the long, sordid tale that led to a child being in the car with those stupid gun-runners. It was supposed to be an ordinary operation. Low-level thugs, take ’em out, take ’em in, get them to snitch on the higher-ups—simple stuff.

But nothing was simple when it came to the life of Bucky Barnes.

It didn’t help when Hill drilled into him, chastising him for his methods that led to the accident. He didn’t know it was a kid back there, and if he had, he sure as hell would have done things differently. He would have never put a kid in harm’s way — Bucky would have found another way.

Which left him here at 2 AM, punching bags against the wall across the room, debating whether he should take on a fourth, or maybe he should see if Sam was still up. 

He pulled his elbow back and stretched out his shoulder, feeling the sting of the still-healing wound groan and squeeze. Nearly there. Nearly healed.

“Are you OK?” the soft voice came from a nearby doorway, wide hazel eyes staring back at him. “Sergeant?”

Leaning on the inside of her doorframe, he could smell her cinnamon candle burning, the rich scent clinging to all the warm, plush fabrics in her room. Her long fiery hair caught bits of the candlelight, the only thing illuminating the room behind her. 

Wanda had a very particular way of being, like a warmth she emanated; cozy to his cool steel exterior. But the often-overlooked streak of softness in her ran deeper than an everyday, run-of-the-mill comfort.

“It’s Bucky, Wanda,” he replied in faux exasperation, eliciting a curve of her lip. “And uh, it’s nothing. Just a bullet graze,” he added, motioning to his shoulder.

She crossed her arms over her chest, burrowing her fists in the sleeve of her sweater, the grey one that dwarfed her frame. Likely Pietro’s. She didn’t have a lot of tokens of her brother, and the ones she did, the rings and the sweaters, were well-worn.

“Bad day at the office?”

He knew she could’ve heard his thoughts about as soon as he’d made them himself, but appreciated that she didn’t. It was an unspoken yet firm agreement; no mental poking and maybe, just maybe he’d say more than two words to her the whole day. They’d been keeping it up so long they’d even gotten up to regular sentences lately. 

Full-on conversations were next on the docket.

“They had someone with them, a girl,” Bucky replied. “Looks like she’s enhanced, so… who knows what they were doing with her.”

He nearly regretted his words’ casual tone, realizing too late that the details, implied or not, probably wouldn’t sit well with his teammate. Too close to her own story. As expected, her jaw locked into place at his answer, eyes flickering as they looked back at him in understanding.

“Mutant?”

He listened as her tongue curled around the t’s, accent inching into the conversation with her anger.

“Or something,” he said, not wanting her to jump to any conclusions for her sake. “I don’t know what it was, but I was there when she woke up and freaked out on the nurse and me.”

Wanda softened slightly, shoulders sagging at the thought of someone inadvertently getting injured. 

Man, he was really striking out with conversation today. He should have just gone straight to Sam and not dumped this on her. 

But Bucky continued, knowing she’d find out eventually, “I’m pretty sure she sent us into a panic attack, because the next thing I knew, I was on my knees. The nurse managed to sedate her, and it passed, but it could have been bad.”

He watched her toy with her hands, slipping the pewter bands off and on her fingers. Canine catching the corner of her lip, she looked pensive.

“Empath maybe?” she offered quietly.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, “That’s _some_ empathy. Aren’t they just supposed to feel things?”

She smiled, and he wasn’t sure if it was at his apparent misunderstanding of powers or because he had somehow managed to be funny some other way. Either way, he’d take her upturned lips as a win any day. Though he wasn’t quite sure why.

“Some of them can project,” Wanda explained. “And if any of us woke up in a strange place, attached to all sorts of medical machines — never mind with what she’s already gone through — we’d probably be terrified too.”

He considered her words, the idea of messing with minds and emotions setting a stone in the pit of his stomach. It had taken him a while to even warm up to the idea of Wanda being in the compound, never mind being there _with_ him. Who’s to say she wouldn’t start poking around when his thoughts got a little too loud? 

Eventually, he’d learned to trust her in the field and on base. 

But if this girl was doing _whatever_ she did unintentionally, if she couldn’t control it, he could just as easily understand that. And suddenly, he felt even worse for her. 

They didn’t even know this girl’s name. Didn’t know a single thing about her. She’d just managed to bring the former goddamn Winter Soldier to his knees without trying (and hopped up on whatever mix medical had her on).

Wanda interrupted his train of thought with her own, “Maybe I should visit her and see if I can glean anything?”

If she could make it so the girl wasn’t scared, so that she could talk straight and not shoot first, it was worth a little prodding. For everyone’s safety.

“Yeah, yeah, that might be an idea,” he admitted. “Maybe you can convince her she’s safe? Talk her down a bit.”

She grinned, a real grin with crinkled eyes and everything, “I can try.”

For being the youngest in the compound (full-time — Parker was contract assignments only), she did have this wisdom and grace about her that Bucky just couldn’t place. It was almost motherly, the concern and the worry and the 2 AM conversations in the hallway with a very broken soldier. It was the hallmark of a hard childhood, he knew that he’d seen it in spades back in his day.

Maybe a result of all those years with her brother; just the two of them on the run…and whatever came before that. 

He didn’t know everything about her life, just the highlights from the team and a couple files. Only things he’d picked up trying to get up to speed with the team. He never thought it was fair, the thought of being able to know someone’s trauma before the person. Files were useful for enemies, but for friends, for teammates… it was a touch too far. But still, it was evident that everyone at the compound respected her—even him.

Even though she — her powers — had been why he almost hadn’t been here, to begin with.

“Have you talked to Sam?” Wanda’s voice broke his train of thought, a knowing look on her face. 

Speaking of motherly.

“I was just heading over there.”

She squeezed his forearm comfortingly, and he tried hard not to wince at the thought of contact. But the smell, the warm cinnamon and clove, stuck with him and clung to his clothes.

He didn’t mind.

“Then goodnight, Sergeant Barnes.”

He sighed his best old man sigh as he started to trudge toward the kitchen, “It’s _Bucky_ , kid.”

A glint of mischief in her eyes and her sparkling grin, one that he couldn’t help but match, held it all.

“You stop calling me kid, and I’ll try to remember.”

 _The cheek_.

* * *

Pleased with his exasperation, Wanda watched him walk away towards the kitchen, though it was more of a strut. It reminded her of Steve, the swagger and the mass and charming smiles. But Sergeant Barnes had a rugged streak that Steve could never, even when he did attempt that beard. 

It got her every time.

If Wanda knew anything, it was that no matter how hard he tried, she wouldn’t call him Bucky. Just like he wasn’t going to stop calling her ‘ _kid_.’

As much as he and Sam liked to pretend otherwise, she was a grown woman with grown feelings, and she wasn’t above appreciating the view. Though she kept it at just appreciation, just to herself. Maybe a throwaway comment here or there.

But the mischievous smile they shared, the one that reminded her of better days with her own brother, that was hard to ignore.

Clutching the sleeves of Pietro’s sweater tighter to her body, she took a deep breath, steadying herself. As if there hadn’t been enough reminders of her previous life, a child had been dropped in their laps, from who knows where with God knows what kind of a past. Broken and beaten and bruised. And scared. 

She could smell the all-too-familiar fear from across the compound.

It wasn’t uncommon for powers to manifest in fight or flight scenarios. She’d learned that not only from her own experience but from all the research she’d been doing with Dr. Banner about mutations and enhancements. She was sure Bruce would be medical’s next phone call. And if she was honest with herself, she’d probably be the call after that if they couldn’t find a way to settle the girl down.

Tuning herself into the feeling, into the call, Wanda realized the pulse seemingly getting stronger with every beat.

Now she was curious.

It was rare for her to come across someone with similar abilities, and half of her wondered if she came about her gift naturally or… otherwise. She shuddered at the thought of this poor girl being part of some Hydra faction’s experiment.

Too jittery to got back to sleep and much too tired to do anything productive, Wanda slunk through the way Bucky came in and headed towards the medical bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanda and Bucky's little exchange here is still one of my favourites.
> 
> See you all this time next week!


	3. Chapter 3

“You still up, Buck?” 

Sam was sitting at the kitchen island, hunched over as if reading a book. Bucky would ask why he sat at the island and not the couch, but he already knew it was because the former had a better view of the route to and from the gym. 

This wasn’t either of their first rodeos, and he was honestly shocked Wilson hadn’t already taken any number of hallway opportunities to “run into” him. 

This was a Sam check-in. 

Thank god Bucky had managed to sneak in a shower before walking into this one. Sam usually tried to wait for the other person to come to him, but sometimes Wilson was impatient. Seemed like tonight, he’d taken the high road, probably realizing the touchy subject. Maybe he’d seen a few of the punching bags fly across the gym… who’s to say?

As much as part of him wanted to roll his eyes at mother hen-ing him, he needed to talk, so he wasn’t about to be an ass about it. They both had more Steve in them than he realized, though this piece of Steve was so decidedly Wilson that he wasn’t convinced it was an exclusive trait anymore.

“Yeah, just checked on the girl.”

“I heard she caused a bit of a ruckus,” Sam offered, prying a little.

Careful with his questions, that gap-toothed smile was cautiously optimistic at the sound of him following up on a case. Shouldn’t be. This wasn’t the first time he’d checked in with someone on the other side of one of his missions. The first time it was a kid, though.

But Wilson was clearly curious too, with that little shred of doubt that what happened that night hadn’t been the girl’s influence lingering in the air. 

And if Bucky was honest, there was more than a little doubt in his head too. The kind that slipped in when he wasn’t sure enough that the soldier was gone for good. But this had been different, felt different all around, and the more he thought about Wanda’s words, the more the idea of external emotional influence made sense.

“I know how it sounds,” Bucky sighed. “But it wasn’t _my_ panic attack. Wanda thinks she might be an empath.”

Sam’s brows rose higher at his assurances. Eyes narrowing slightly. Closing himself off somewhat with a shift of his shoulders. Unusual for Sam.

“Wanda go check on her?”

Was she not supposed to?

“No, no. Just based on how I told her,” Bucky explained, watching his posture smooth. “It was the weirdest feeling, like… being underwater.”

Leaning back into his seat and leaning on the counter, Sam somehow looked a little more smug at Bucky’s admission than he had before.

“You _talked_ to Wanda?”

It was almost a scoff.

“You jealous or something? Didn’t realize we were exclusive.”

Bucky knew what Sam was getting at, he knew it was a good thing, but quite frankly, he didn’t need the additional teasing. He got enough shit from him usually. Between all the stories Steve had slipped him and the new ones from him getting up to speed with the century, the man didn’t need any more ammunition.

“Nah,” Sam said with a grin and a shake of his head. “It’s good, is all. Today was a rough one. I know Hill gave you shit, but how are you doing otherwise?”

“Yeah, well, I guess I deserved some shit,” Bucky admitted, running his hand through his hair. “I think I’m OK. Did any of our squawkers talk yet?”

A quick step away from the feelings bullshit, getting back to the point. What mattered. Bucky was waiting to be called on his diversion, but Sam merely smirked at the nickname. He wrapped his hands around the mug on the counter, still pensive, like he was thinking back on their first chat.

“One was getting a little antsy, but we’re letting them hang out overnight so they can stew a little. You can have at ‘em first thing in the morning if you want,” Sam offered.

“Nothing I want more in the world,” Bucky quipped.

An empty beat brought in the kitchen clock ticking, one of the last analog things in the whole building, he’d bet. Bucky would have gladly lived in that silence, his biggest gripe with the outside world being that no one knew how to be quiet anymore. How to enjoy the quiet. 

It was in those moments that he realized just how beat Sam looked. Bags under his eyes, drifting downturned lips. The title was wearing on him.

Heavy is the head and all that.

Just as Bucky was about to quip about him being up past his bedtime, Sam beat him to the punch with his own train of thought.

“Does Wanda think the girl’ll be OK?”

At least Bucky wasn’t the only one whose thoughts were tied up at that particular dock.

“You got a soft spot now too? Geez, age is really making us all saps, huh?” he replied, all teeth and half-hearted smirks. But as much as he tried to brush it off, that mystery girl was exactly where all his thoughts kept pointing at every lull in the conversation.

“Nah, I think we just all have a thing for strays,” Sam settled.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Bucky muttered, not missing a beat. “Wanda didn’t say, though. I think she was mostly just sad for the kid. I bet she can get through to her if the med team can’t. They calling Bruce in?”

An emphatic nod told Bucky this case was about to be out of their hands and above their pay-grade. Probably for the best. Bruce was a good guy and would probably be able to help. He’d gotten the Hulk under control, after all. 

Though they still weren’t _quite_ sure how.

But if he could manage that, coupled with the whole time travel thing with Stark, he could basically do anything as far as Bucky was concerned.

“Yeah, he’s been working on some mutant research with some team out in Westchester. Real secretive, but apparently there’s a lot to learn, so he’s been cooperating,” Sam explained like he was letting Bucky in on a secret. 

Probably classified. Standard upper-level stuff. 

There weren’t a lot of people and organizations they could trust outside themselves. So many splinter cells and off-shoots that it made it hard to trust going to the damn grocery store some days. Between the Decimation and the Return, the whole landscape had changed completely. People were flitting in and out of hidey holes like they were living in Swiss cheese.

Like they were living in the end times —well, they almost _did_ end.

“They’ll probably want in on this too if the tests come back positive.”

Today’s mission was the perfect example of things they’d never have taken on themselves normally—low-level thugs. Most days, he’d ask what the point was. But these days they couldn’t tell Hydra cell from AIM affiliate from a street corner arms dealer. It was a mess, and they didn’t have a lot of time to get a hold on the situation.

So maybe it was a good idea to start sharing information again.

“We sure we can trust them?”

“Technically, they’re more at risk than we are,” Sam explained levelly. “They got a whole school of enhanced kids apparently. Very hush-hush.” Sam paused like he was wondering if he should continue. 

This must have been up there on the confidentiality agreement they’d probably already signed. And possibly broken.

But he continued, “A couple years back, someone on the black market was claiming there was a cure. I don’t know whatever became of it, but it got tense for a while. Plus, these day’s the government’s back on their asses because of the whole enhanced debate.”

“A _cure_?”

That didn’t sound like a good combination. He’d never really thought of mutations — _enhanced_ powers from the X-gene— like an illness or a cancer. Weren’t they supposed to be gifts? 

Mutants had been around longer than Bucky had, the way he’d heard it. 

Apparently, he’d even served with a few mutants back in Europe, though he didn’t realize it at the time. Steve had included some extra files trying to get him up to speed when he was defrosted, stuff he’d never even thought to look for or begin to remember. Mission reports, bios, military records. The works.

The pieces were hazy and woven together with cheap thread, but he could look back on some of it almost fondly.

Yeah, James Howlett and Victor Creed looked a hell of a lot different seventy years later, but they were still alive and kicking somewhere well off SHIELD’s radar. Steve and he weren’t the first, nor would they be the last, to live to see worlds change, powers rise and fall. Not by a long-shot.

All told, it didn’t sound like something that should be fixed so much as understood and accepted.

“Yeah, not sure what happened with it, but for a while, there was a big rush to stop it bef—“

“Before they weaponized it, of course,” Bucky came to a conclusion aloud to Sam’s surprise. “That’s messed up.”

But there was more in those files. All sorts of experiments and heavy shit going on behind the scenes. If anyone on the outside thought war was brutal, disgusting filth, they should have a sniff of what was going on underneath. All the things they didn’t teach you in recruitment sessions or pamphlets or posters. 

Bucky had been through WWII, had seen experimentation and decimation of the human condition up close. He’d heard their twisted logic and watched them spin their disgusting, divisive tales to the masses. Here he thought he’d left that all behind, that maybe, just maybe humanity had learned from its mistakes for once. But he was wrong.

He knew the truth now: some things didn’t make the history textbooks because they were still going on to this day. And legends were only fiction until they weren’t.

After all, the Winter Soldier had been a myth… until a few bad days in DC.

“Yeah, it’s heavy,” Sam agreed, draining his mug. “You gonna hit the hay?”

Yeah, great thought to end on, Sam. Doom and gloom really set the mood for a good night’s sleep. But he wasn’t really sure what else they’d talk about these days.

It’s not like they had a whole lot of hobbies outside of physical and weapons training.

Carding a hand through his hair, he nodded, his body betraying him by breaking into a yawn before he could stop himself. Well, that answered that.

“G’night, Sam.”

“Night, Buck.”

Bucky stumbled back the way he came, passing Wanda’s door, two before his own. 

His brain was going over the conversation, half trying to tuck it away for later while the other half tried to process the day’s events. But he couldn’t quite figure out just how his typical Sam talk had turned into talking shop. Sam was usually too focussed to let the conversation drift.

Maybe it was the Wanda thing that threw him off.

Before he could continue his musings, an overhead alarm blared overhead.

“ _Emergency alert. Medical wing._ ”

Shit.

Bucky raced down the hallway towards the action, and Sam followed close behind. They came to a flurry of nurses and lab techs huddled around the observation window of the room. But no one was trying to get in.

That wasn’t a good sign.

Clearing a field of view —easy enough, as he was head and shoulders above most of the medical staff— Bucky could see Wanda sat in a chair beside the girl’s bed. Red tendrils bridging the gap between the two, eyes closed and peaceful.

She had that same glow as the angels in those old-time cheesy pictures. The electric red shone in the dim light, and he was both parts captivated and a little scared if he was honest. The strands connected the witch and the girl, binding them in threads.

What was she doing?

There was no one else in the room; the girl on the bed was stiff as a board, sat up and not saying a word. Still dressed in the pyjamas he’d found her in at the crime scene —they’d probably been too scared to change those, he realized. Sam was behind him, already questioning the head nurse.

“The attendant managed to get out of the room before she started _whatever_ that was,” Bucky could hear her explain. “Then she walked in, and it all settled down.”

Sam gave a curt nod, Captain voice on as he pressed, “How long has Wanda been there?”

“Ten minutes, maybe? The girl’s burning through the sedatives; she shouldn’t have been up until morning. We didn’t know what to do, so we thought we’d flag it just in case.”

“It was a good call,” Sam admitted. “Thanks. We’ll take it from here.”

“Take _what_ from here, Sam? We don’t even know what this is,” Bucky murmured, waving a half at the observation window.

“Slow down, soldier. Wanda will figure it out,” Sam said. “If it’s been ten minutes and she hasn’t panicked, she’s got something already.” 

Bucky shot him a look like, ‘What, we’re supposed to camp out here all night?’ Clearly, Sam could translate.

“You forget how long it took us to convince you to stick around these parts? I’ve got the patience of a saint, Barnes,” he chuckled.

He hadn’t forgotten. The memory was burned into Bucky’s mind as fresh as the day it was forged.

So, trusting Wanda and her process (more than Sam at this point), they stood and waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Westchester, huh? Wonder who or _what_ could be there… 🤔
> 
> See you all this time next week!


	4. Chapter 4

Wanda felt like she was pulling a loose thread.

Following a trail down the hallways of the modern building, of pain, of anguish and confusion. A restless spirit at the end. The employees passing through and across the halls were just a distraction; worker bees to the hive. She had a clear path lit up in front of her like a giant neon sign. 

Wandering her way into the medical wing was easy, as was figuring out which unmarked room the girl was lying in. 

Palm pressed against the window overlooking the sterile room, she watched her fight against the sedative. She could feel it, the burning in her bones and the sting of fear as a nurse rifled through a chart in her grasp. She could feel the girl reaching out, like a pressure pushing through the glass beneath her palm. 

Her mind, maybe? It felt so different from Wanda’s own power, so foreign, clunky and intrusive that it was easy to spot.

Could she latch onto it?

Before she could try, the attending nurse startled, and Wanda realized the girl was waking.

“Here, get to safety,” Wanda said, turning the door handle and waving her hand towards the exit. “You should be fine outside. I’ll calm her down.”

The nurse scurried out, closing the door behind her as Wanda approached the bed cautiously. Her eyes fluttered, and fists clenched. The girl’s face screwed into a grimace as she fought hard against the drowsiness.

Against her better judgement, Wanda drew a chair to the side of the bed and sat down. Taking a deep breath, she closed before starting to project, “ _You’re safe, little one. My name is Wanda._ ”

Fear. All Wanda could taste in her mouth was pure, acrid fear. She wasn’t even trying to read her; in fact, she was trying to keep some psychic distance from her. But somehow, the emotion ballooned in the small room, suffocating her.

Gritting her teeth and trying to tear her mind from the stench, she tried again, “ _You don’t have to be scared. We just want to help you. You’re no longer with those men, you’re in a safe place with the Avengers._ ” 

Wanda didn’t know if the girl even knew who the Avengers were. There was no recognition or halt to the shuddering sensation rattling Wanda to the bone, so she was probably right to worry. OK, another angle.

“ _I’m different, special, like you. Right now, I’m projecting my thoughts to you, but I’m going to start reading you, OK? I just want to be able to talk to you._ ” Wanda paused, thinking through how she’d feel if she was at the other end of this conversation. She added, “ _If you don’t want me to, at any point, you can tell me to stop and I will. I promise._ ” 

She couldn’t help but bring her words down to the kind you offer a small child. While the mystery girl might have almost been a _woman_ , she was so little, so frail.

Wanda filled her lungs again and calmed herself, reaching further across the room with her energies. She felt an immediate reaction, a mental flinch, as she stepped into the girl’s bright white headspace. This was the in-between, the space just outside her mind, enough room for her to project responses without infringing on memories or direct thoughts. There were no physical embodiments here, no projections of human forms or avatars. 

This was just a conversation, nothing too overwhelming — at least, that’s what Wanda was hoping.

That hope shattered as soon as the girl’s racing thoughts were set loose on the space. The line of fire came fast and furious, as quickly as the thoughts formed in her head. Wanda struggled to keep up with the barrage of questions, trying to ease herself into the waves of panic and curiosity. 

It was difficult to grasp them before they disappeared and were replaced with new ones, but Wanda had a steady hand and a lot more training behind her now.

“Why am I here?” 

Wanda was starting to hear the girl’s real voice —or what she could only assume was her voice— in snippets. Pieces of thoughts she could pull out of the steady stream. It sounded so small, even here, where it should have been her strongest. It was her inner voice, the one that didn’t hold itself back behind tongues and filters.

“You were in an accident. My teammates were trying to bring your captors to justice.”

Wanda tried to keep her answers short and easy to understand. The hardest part was just staying on one train of thought, ignoring the dozens of other questions acting as a battering ram on her concentration.

“Am I dead?”

She’d almost expected that one, but it didn’t hurt any less to hear in a girl’s tone.

“No. You’re in a special hospital at our headquarters in the state of New York.”

“Who are you?”

The voice didn’t sound accusatory or scared anymore. Wanda could feel the youthful curiosity poking through the line of questioning, settling the bitter panic that had torn through Wanda.

“My name is Wanda Maximoff.”

There was time for further explanations later, but it was enough information to hopefully build some trust with the girl.

“How are you doing this?”

“I’m enhanced, like you. This is my power, my ability that helps me reach into minds.”

Something about Wanda’s answer caused a visceral reaction, and she could feel the girl shrink into herself. She wasn’t sure if it was fear of Wanda or the fact she knew she was enhanced, but she let the girl keep her distance. It was like they spoke from opposite corners of a football field now, cowering in a corner as far as her mind would take her from Wanda’s.

“Are you going to hurt me now?” she asked, just above a whisper.

The question broke Wanda’s heart, and she could feel the child-like quality to the words. Her answers seemed to widdle down the ever-present fear of being injured. It took a little longer for Wanda to formulate a response, not sure how to comfort someone that couldn’t see her. 

“We would never hurt you. We want to help you. I promise.” 

That seemed to calm her slightly, thoughts reorganizing into a more orderly fashion. There was silence now, the girl waiting for Wanda to restart the conversation or show her cards.

Wanda pushed, “May I ask you for your name?”

“It’s Iz.”

“Is that short for Isabella?”

It was a guess, but not a very good one, evidently.

“No, Isolde. Isolde Ranshaw.”

If Wanda could have smiled, she would have.

“It’s nice to meet you, Isolde. Are you feeling a little less scared?”

But she ignored Wanda’s question, an anxious thought springing up in response, “Did I kill someone? Is that why you have me? “

If that previous question broke Wanda’s heart, this one ripped it from her chest. That kind of palpable fear and anxiety came from experience. Wanda would know that anywhere. It took a lot of concentration to stop her thoughts from edging towards her own memories, and she struggled to voice to the girl why she was in holding.

“No, Iz. You were just very scared when you first woke up, and you gave two of my teammates a fright. Your powers affected some of the staff, but they’re fine. I’m more worried about you, so I used my powers to communicate with you.”

She was careful not to place any blame on her, assuring Iz no one was injured. 

“I swear I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, not this time.”

There was that shudder again, the fear of reprimand at doing something wrong. Iz had clearly had this conversation before with very different results.

Wanda tried to soothe her, “I know, little one. It’s normal for powers like ours to automatically reach out and protect you when you think you’re in danger.”

“Has something like that ever happened to you?”

Wanda tried not to let the sombre feeling slip through, “Yes, even me.”

That seemed to set her more at ease, and her questions slowed to a halt. Wanda could feel the call of sleep in Isolde’s mind. Humming from the machines in the outside world was starting to creep in, and Wanda could feel Isolde losing focus. Wanda was surprised she had lasted this long, knowing the toll empathy and mind enhancements could have on a person.

Whatever the girl was, she was powerful.

Unable to keep the sedatives at bay, she reached out to Wanda in her last coherent thought, “Will you be there when I wake up?”

“Of course, Iz,” Wanda promised.

Isolde stopped fighting the medicine, slipping back towards rest as her thoughts tapered off into dreamlessness. Wanda stepped out of the girls’ mind and took a second to find herself again. She wasn’t a fan of the in-between; the stale, blank feeling always made her skin itch. The transition back to the real world was even more jarring. It still took her an hour or two to come back down after. 

It was more comfortable with people around, much harder alone. But lately, she’d been used to alone.

Wanda realized she had an audience before she opened her eyes, feeling the inquisitive gaze of Sergeant Barnes and Sam firmly on her through the observation window. Sam was the first to open the door, offering a wary smile. She could already sense their worry, creased foreheads and frown lines in full force.

“I’m fine, Sam,” she prefaced with a smile. “She’s fine too. I found out her name.”

Barnes was at Sam’s side as soon as the words left her lips, bristling. Steel grey eyes wandered towards the window, eyeing the girl before staring at Wanda expectantly. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him like this, somewhere between protective and paternal.

“Isolde Ranshaw,” Wanda clarified. “Maybe we can find something in the database?”

“You get anything else from her?”

“I tried not to poke around too much,” Wanda replied. “She was pretty scared. One of her questions was if we were going to hurt her. And then she asked if she killed someone.”

She watched Barnes’s expression drop somewhere short of rage.

“So she might have killed someone before? How can you hurt someone with feelings…?” Sam had walked himself through to the answer before he’d finished his thought out loud.

Eyes ablaze, Barnes looked like he was going to put a hole in the nearest wall.

“I have to stay overnight. I promised her I’d be there when she woke up,” Wanda added.

“I’ll stay too,” Barnes offered quickly. “Not inside, that might freak her out. I’ll keep an eye out from here.”

Sam’s eyes darted between the pair with a furrowed brow, wondering where exactly this sudden act of solidarity came from. It wasn’t long before he shrugged, likely too tired to care, Wanda decided. They _had_ just gotten back from a week-long mission.

“I’ll see you both in the morning, then.”

Barnes was unmoving, anchored in a wide stance, arms crossed over his chest as he stared into the room. He could probably stand like that for hours; probably had, Wanda realized. Some parts of the soldier, of the training, remained, she realized. Some parts of it had morphed into this _not quite_ Bucky Barnes.

“Here, come sit inside for a little bit. You can keep me company until you get bored,” Wanda offered a smile and a motion towards the room.

She knew that stubborn streak wouldn’t have let him leave that post for anything less than helping someone other than himself, so she would have to be the catalyst. Unless she wanted him to stand like some golem outside the door, silent and brooding. Plus, Wanda felt better with him around — _someone_ around as she readjusted to reality.

No, this was better. This way, she could try to cheat a grin out of him, maybe even a laugh.

He didn’t say anything as they entered the room, setting himself down in one of the chairs set about a foot apart, against the back wall. 

“Do you keep vigil a lot, Sergeant?” Wanda asked, in a thinly-veiled attempt to get him to open up a little.

“Seriously, with the titles again?” He couldn’t even pretend to be mad, shaking his head with a twitch of his lip and getting back to her question, “Nah, not since Steve, but…there’s something about this one, you know? “

She had to agree, staring at the young girl in bed. Wanda had to stop herself from walking over and combing her hair back, adjusting the pillow. Anything to make her look more at ease, more peaceful, like any other carefree teen should —not that _she_ was necessarily the best judge of a ‘normal’ childhood.

Wanda must have been lost in her head for longer than she meant to. A hand gently found her shoulder, and she almost shot out of her seat at the sudden contact. 

“Sorry. Still a little jumpy,” she said, shooting Barnes an apologetic look.

He brushed it off with a shake of his head, eyes not leaving hers.

“You OK?”

Wanda bit her lip, unsure if she should tell him everything she felt and not just the edited version she’d provided to Sam. But with his sudden outreach and interest in the girl, it might be worth it to have him on her side.

“She’s been through a lot. I um, I can’t be for certain, but it felt like something more than just…”

The Sergeant seemed to understand, giving a comforting squeeze on the hand perched on her shoulder. She didn’t mind the contact. And as suddenly as the room felt safer with Barnes in it, Wanda had already made up her mind about the next part of their dance.

“Iz will be out for a while,” Wanda started, unsure if she was about to overstep. “You could stay in here until morning, at least? I’ll know once she starts to wake if you’re worried about that.”

“I, uh—”

But Wanda was already across the room in a few paces, pulling over the spare chair, blankets and pillows that the nurses had left for them. Barnes begrudgingly got up from his seat, letting her do her thing, muttering a little to himself about not having to go to the trouble, which only made Wanda’s soft smile stretch.

Once their chairs were well and truly nests, she propped them side-by-side and motioned for Barnes to take a seat, offering him the extra chair as a footrest. 

“Thanks, kid.”

Seated beside Barnes, her shoulder brushing up against his slightly and the added warmth radiating through her. Steve had mentioned it in passing once that they ran warmer because of the serum, but she’d never been close enough in their time together to notice.

Not realizing just how much the night’s events had taken out of her, Wanda’s eyes started to droop before she could chide his choice of words. 

Sleep came easy with the background of buzzes, beeps and titters.

And the soothing smell of aftershave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter: A soft little moment, and we learned a little more about our mystery girl.
> 
> The next chapter is one of my favourites.
> 
> See you this time next week!


	5. Chapter 5

There was always that moment of waking when Bucky wonders who he is —where he is, too, but mostly who. Usually, it’s in a too-soft bed or a shitty motel room. Sometimes even in the Compound when he managed to get to sleep there.

But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up with someone asleep on him. 

Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d fallen asleep on a mission, period. Never mind in the same room as a teammate that wasn’t Wilson. He’d tried to keep watch, he really had. But a week of being on the road with Sam took its toll (mostly on his patience), he supposed. 

Maybe it was Stevie, or Nat —years past, by now. But neither of them was this particular brand of comfortable warmth. Soft and sleepy. There was a twinge of something he couldn’t identify in his gut as that familiar fall scent filled the air.

But that was neither here nor there. 

The girl on the bed was asleep, Wanda was snoring softly on his shoulder, and the halls outside were quiet. As much as his mind still snapped onto an objective, a solution, this wasn’t really a mission. It was him being roped into Wanda’s scheme of keeping company. Maybe with a hint of loneliness —on her part, of course. 

But she was exhausted and needed the sleep, and the kid would be out for a while longer, so no harm done.

Talking with Isolde really shook Wanda up yesterday; he could hear it in her voice, in the way she so quickly convinced him to stay. That look in her eyes he couldn’t quite read. She must have been really far gone if she was coming to _him_ for comfort.

But still, Bucky wondered, would she be hurt if he left now?

If his internal clock was right (it usually was), it was just before sunrise, so they still had time. With no flights slated and no fight planned, the medical team would be down to the girl’s support staff, and they’d get some extra privacy. Plus, Wilson wasn’t subtle, so Bucky would be able to hear his flat-footed walk before he could get in whatever embarrassing snapshot he was eager to hold over his head for the next year. 

With the mental SITREP out of the way and nothing better to do until dawn, he leaned his head down against Wanda’s and retreated back into the warm dark of sleep.

* * *

It started with a flicker, an uptick in the tempo of the beeps and hisses. Bucky’s eyes snapped open at the new sound, taking stock of the room in a heartbeat. They were safe. The girl —Isolde, he remembered— was safe, not awake yet, but would be soon. Each wince stretched the scrapes and bruises on her faces from the crash, reminding him of how concerned he’d been carting her out of the car.

Wanda was safe, too, still sleeping against his shoulder, orange strands curtaining her face. Peaceful. He almost felt bad having to wake her, but he wasn’t sure how the kid would react to a stranger.

“Wanda?” he whispered, nudging his shoulder slightly. She burrowed her face into the crook of his neck, and he chuckled. Gently sweeping her hair off her face, he squeezed her shoulder, “The kid’s going to be up soon.”

“Iz?” she asked sleepily, hazel eyes peeking up at him through her eyelashes.

A rustling of sheets and blankets brought both of their attention to the girl, and Bucky bolted up from his seat out of instinct. He looked back to Wanda from the doorway to make sure he didn’t jostle her too badly, gaze following hers to the bed. Isolde’s eyes fluttered open just as Wanda reached her bedside, grasping her hand.

“Good morning, Isolde. I am Wanda. Do you remember me?”

Bucky watched the kid visibly stutter, eyes locked on him as she froze. _Shit_. He quickly slipped out the door as Wanda tried to soothe her, not wanting to make things worse. 

Bucky could still hear them from outside the room, soft chatter seeping through the thick glass. The serum was good for something, he guessed. Leaning on the wall, just out of sight from the inside, he gritted his teeth and waited for another meltdown. But the seconds ticked by, and it never came. His pulse settled down to normal levels as the medical machines’ symphony quelled into a smooth rhythm moments later.

Since he was here…he might as well see if Wanda could get anything useful out of Isolde— for the case, of course. Bucky would definitely be taking Sam up on his offer to interrogate the bastards who did this. 

He’d never turn down a chance to make good on yesterday’s missed opportunity. 

Feeling a little more comfortable with leaving Wanda in the room alone, and a little less intrusive at listening, Bucky tuned in just enough to be able to make out the words.

Her voice was still raspy, probably sore from disuse, but it was like… Vulnerability. He could hear through her words. Anyone else might have assumed her cold or impersonal, but she was putting on a strong front. A good one, but he could still hear it in her. There was something familiar about the sound, though he couldn’t place it right away.

He learned she was seventeen, that she preferred Iz to Isolde, and that home was Tampa, Florida, though she didn’t know where her parents were. Probably dead, she said, just like that. Like it was nothing. Only another page in the novel of her life. Either totally numb or wholly rehearsed. 

Bucky was leaning towards the latter, noting it for follow-up later.

All throughout listening, he vacillated between asking himself just how the fuck did an orphaned seventeen-year-old from Tampa ended up in Augusta, Maine, and not wanting to know to answer. Because it wasn’t going to be a good one.

Sounding a little more confident now, she asked Wanda questions in return, trading information for trust. Wanda seemed to be really good with her, and Bucky found himself drawn to her voice. The open tone and the colourful words that came with talking to younger people. From being honest.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” 

“Only child,” Iz explained. “You?”

“I have a brother, a twin.”

 _Rebecca_. 

That’s why she sounded so familiar. Bucky was struck with the realization as he settled into the memories of his pipsqueak, the giggles and the teasing. Hair ruffles and bear hug tackles into that creaky old couch in Brooklyn. Her putting on a strong voice to convince him to let her tag along on his and Steve’s misadventures. 

His throat tightened at the sepia-toned thoughts, like some movie reel in his head he had to tuck away for now.

“A brother,” Iz scrunched up her face. “Aren’t twins supposed to look the same?”

That was the most words he’d heard the kid say in one go. Was that considered progress or just part of being a teenager? He couldn’t remember. Wasn’t sure he would know nowadays anyways.

“Pietro and I were what is called fraternal twins, not identical,” Wanda explained.

And something dawned on him there and then. She was seventeen. Somehow that fact, paired with her confusion, brought more questions than answers. Wouldn’t a seventeen-year-old know the different types of twins? Wasn’t that something they still covered in basic biology? 

He started to wonder when she’d last been to school. When Isolde last had a normal life.

 _If_ she ever had a normal life.

But the kid was sharp, more so than he ever expected, paying attention and taking mental notes—follow-up questions. The last time he’d been around teenagers —aside from Parker— he’d been one himself, in a very different era. This whole exchange was new to him.

“You _were_ … Is he uh, gone?”

“Yes, little one. But he was very brave, like you,” Wanda squeezed the girl’s hand. “He gave his life saving a lot of people.”

Bucky could hear the quiver in Wanda’s voice, the hesitation in the answer. His heart twisted at her pain, sorry he couldn’t have known the man she spoke so highly of. Something inside him knew that if Pietro was anything like her, he would have done great things.

But good people don’t last long in this world. He knew that as fact. It was why he was still around, he’d bet.

“Like you,” Iz said after a beat of pause. “You saved me.”

He found himself inching towards the glass, wanting to get a better look at the two. He caught those hazel eyes for a split second over Iz’s shoulder, watched a twitch in the corner of her mouth before her gaze returned to the girl.

Wanda smiled at both of them, “No, James did.”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding at that sound of his name on Wanda’s lips. 

“The man from earlier, with the long hair?”

 _James_. All the chance in the world to call him Bucky, and she called him by his first name. The name his sister used, the name mother had always called him, the one Nat used to use when she was screwing with him. 

A name he had all but buried along with its previous users.

“Mm, he and Sam locked up the men who had you and brought you here. But James was the one who pulled you out of the car.”

But as much as he wanted to be upset, wanted an excuse to hate the fact she called him by his first name, it _felt_ right. Something about the way her tongue curled around the vowels. Maybe it was the smile on her face bringing a warmth to it, where it had always sounded so cold.

And James was better than Sergeant, at least. So, for now, it’d stay without incident.

“Iz, do you know why you were with those men? What they were doing?”

The teen fisted the blankets on her bed, eyes locked to the floor as she stuttered out a quiet, “I-I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know them. I d-don’t think I was awake for any of it.”

“Hey, it’s OK. You’re safe now,” Wanda said, setting her hand down inches away from hers. “You can tell me anything. We just want to know more so we can help you.”

Something about Wanda’s words set off Isolde. He could see the moment they landed, the second she let go of the blanket. She quickly drew her knees to chest and scooted away from Wanda, drawing the covers up as a shield.

To her credit, Wanda was careful with her expression and kept her soft, even tone, “I’ll let you rest. The nurses should be here with some breakfast for you soon, OK? I can stop by later and see if you want to chat.”

But the kid’s answers had dried up, retreating into her shell, and Wanda made to leave the room.

“You were right, there’s something else,” Bucky told Wanda as soon as the door clicked shut.

She nodded, “Do you think she was really knocked out the entire time she spent with them?”

“It would almost be better if she was,” Bucky said darkly, and they both stood in silence at the thought. “But I’m sure she’ll be a little less on edge once she gets some food in her.”

And it wasn’t all bad news. Wanda had gotten her to talk; that was an excellent first step. Next, he’d have to beat the rest out of the jackasses downstairs. Literally or figuratively. That was up to them.

“So, James, huh?” he gruffed, trying to add a little levity to the tense situation.

Her lips curled into a playful grin, knowing it was a sore spot with him. Knowing she was being cheeky. Hands on her hips now, she pursed her lips to hide her amusement at ruffling his feathers.

“Would you have preferred Sergeant or old man?” Wanda asked. “Maybe, elder?”

He huffed out a breathy laugh, “No, no. Just call me James.”

“James,” she repeated, eyes twinkling.

Ignoring the flutter in his gut, he confirmed with his own grin, “Just like that, Wan.”

Sam’s pacing echoed in the halls, and Bucky’s head snapped towards the sound. He looked a little flustered, voice a little harder than usual.

“Do you guys have a minute to talk about the kid?” he asked, Cap voice in full effect.

He didn’t give the pair a chance to answer, opening up a door down the hall to reveal a full roundtable of team members and staff. Bruce had managed to cram his green self into one of the chairs in the corner of the room while Clint, Rhodes, and Exeter were already seated and staring up at him. Along with what seemed to be half the med team. 

Great. Real glad he got the memo for this meeting.

“Is this a talk or an ambush?” Bucky asked to the table in a not-quite-joking tone. “Is Lang going to pop up out of thin air, too?”

“Hey, this is a special case. We’re going to need everyone’s heads in on this,” Sam replied levelly. “And Lang’s on leave, you know that.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Sure, _leave_. Shacking up with his new girlfriend was more like it, but who was he to judge?

“Anyway,” Sam continued, shooting Bucky a terse look. “Isolde Ranshaw is seventeen, from Tampa, Florida—”

“We coulda told you that,” Bucky huffed, and Wanda tried to hide a chuckle at his frustration.

“—Reported missing by her mother, Theresa Ranshaw, early this morning.”

Clint looked a little tense at the thought, “Why not right away?”

“You know how long the locals get to file this kind of stuff. Missing teen is a runaway, runaways come home eventually,” Bucky shrugged, but he wasn’t convinced. 

Not after the way Iz talked about her parents probably being dead.

Wanda, too shook her head, chewing her lip, “Clint is right. Based on her reaction, it’s unlikely she was _just_ taken. She’s been far from home for a while, I think.”

“Has the mother been notified?” Bruce asked quietly from the corner of the table.

“The team’s working on that,” Sam answered, nodding at Exeter. “So we’ll see where that pans out. But, like I mentioned last night, I didn’t get anything out the guys downstairs, barely got their names. So I don’t know how much they can offer us here.”

Really? He was just going to give up on chrome-dome and his partner like that?

“You’re telling me they’re not going to give up anything beyond their names?”

“I don’t know if these guys even knew what they got themselves into. Sounded like the level above them didn’t know what to do with her and just offered her as leverage…maybe payment?” Sounded like Sam wasn’t sure of anything except, “Those guys were in way over their heads.”

And Bucky had to agree. He snorted at the thought of those two bozos having to deal with Isolde’s powers, “They must not’ a had her for too long, because they would have been fucked if she woke up.”

“That’s why they were pumping her with sedatives.”

“What?” Clint’s head turned now, expression a little darker at the implication.

Bruce cleared his throat and explained, “There was quite the cocktail of drugs in her system; Ambien, ketamine, a couple things that were harder to identify. But it’s the levels…” Eyebrows at his hairline, he looked incredulously at the file in his hands. “These doses would have led to a coma to almost any of us, even. It’s no wonder she burned through her IV.”

It took almost a full minute for all to settle around the room, the same pensive expression across each of their faces, hamster wheels at top speed behind their eyes. Bucky’s mind was already made up, drawn in the sand.

Grill the assholes, find the supplier, bust heads. It was easy.

“That would make sense,” Wanda admitted. “I could feel her fighting whatever was in the IV. She was quite strong. She was able to hold her wards for much longer than I expected for someone that young.”

“So, what do we do with her?” Sam asked.

“She’s clearly powerful,” Bruce confirmed. “We’re going to run some tests now that Wanda has managed to calm her down. Maybe see if we can figure out how her powers work. But I’m going to be honest here, guys. I think this is beyond me.”

Wanda, ever the peacemaker, offered her two cents, “We’ll have help. Xavier hasn’t even gotten here yet. And we can’t go making plans without him signing off if he’s going to be involved.”

Bruce concurred with a tilt of his head, “Well, first, we have to get the X-gene test results.”

Was no one going to ask the kid about all this? They were just going to act like she didn’t have a say in where her genetic material ended up? Besides Wanda, none of them had even met her, never spoken to her, and they were just going to sit around this table and decide her fate? 

Every word was bubbling up inside Bucky, and he knew he was bound to burst before this little chat was up.

“But hypothetically, if she doesn’t have the gene, it might be good to have her local. We could even train her,” Sam offered, clearly stuck on his own solution —shocker. “We could use someone with that skillset in touchy situations.”

Bucky couldn’t stifle the sigh from his lips, and all eyes were suddenly on him, stares expectantly. Sam was more than a little exasperated, but Bucky was used to them butting heads. 

Fine, they wanted his opinion? He’d give it.

“Sorry, is no one else hearing themselves here? She’s _seventeen_ , Wilson. Are you saying we train her like some little super soldier?” Bucky seethed, bristling at the thought of some kid getting wrapped up in this world. 

He could see Wanda flicker in the corner of his eye, his answer sparking something in her. 

“You have a problem with helping out a kid all of a sudden?” Rhodes challenged, in way too close to Steve’s tone to sound natural.

“I have a problem with militarizing a child,” Bucky clarified with a huff. “She’s a little young to get conscripted, don’t you think?”

Rhodes shifted in his seat as Bucky stared him down, unmoving. Even if he had to sit here and be the bull in the goddamn china shop, he wasn’t about to let them think this was going to be an easy battle. It wasn’t right. Not to put that on some kid, bringing them into this fucked up world of theirs.

She should be able to go to school, make friends, beat up boys who ran their mouths. Maybe even sneak into bars when she was a little older. Reckless abandon. A normal childhood.

“You don’t seem to have a problem with Parker,” Clint shot back.

He wasn’t wrong. Bucky never had an issue with Spider Kid. Parker was smart, could talk science, and Bucky tended to treat him like more of an adult than Barton’s kids —whether that was right or wrong.

But Bucky was a little startled at Barton not being on his side on this. He had children of his own. 

But he guessed Clint also had Kate*, and maybe that’s where things got a little blurry. She must have been about Isolde’s age when they first met each other if he was doing the math right. Maybe he and Barton told themselves different things to get to sleep at night. 

“That’s not the same, Barton, and you know it. My problem lies— _lay_ with Stark on that one, if I’m honest,” he groused. “A lot of problems lay with Stark.”

The silence was palpable, that raw discomfort at speaking ill of the dead filling the room. Sam didn’t look anymore convinced, covering his mouth with his fist like Bucky didn’t already know he was holding his tongue.

But not a peep around the table. Not a word in solidarity or even in assurance. Not one single person. No one had a decent answer for that one, huh? 

Shocker.

Bucky brought his fists down onto the table in a huff, pushing himself back and out of the rolling chair.

“Now I’m going to do something actually useful and go question the only goddamn witnesses we have. That alright with everyone? Or do we need a team meeting to clear that too?” Bucky seethed, storming out of the room before he could hear any opposition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a personal favourite of mine. Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> See you this time next week.
> 
> *This is in reference to Kate Bishop, the other Hawkeye, who was part of the Young Avengers. Hence the age dig.


	6. Chapter 6

Wanda stared at the rest of the team, faces ranging from annoyance to hurt. 

But as much as she tried to school her expression, she could feel the acid seeping up her throat. Wanda was torn. The scarlet energies were swirling inside her, and she was using all of her concentration to tamp it down. Keeping it from leaking out through her fingertips and down the hall towards the disgusting pigs sitting in a cell somewhere. 

_That_ was where her rage deserved to go; not to the people around this table who were doing their misinformed best to help.

James knew that. Wanda knew that. But his fuse was shorter than hers.

“I think we should perhaps chat again, closer to the Professor’s arrival,” Wanda said softly. “I’ll try to talk to Isolde later today when she’s eaten. Hopefully, I can earn her trust.”

Sam nodded with a grateful look, forehead still creased from the outburst, “If anyone can, it’s you. We’ll pick this up tomorrow, then. Rhodes, Barton, pack up and meet at the loading dock.”

Wanda didn’t wait to watch the team scatter; she was up and out the door before realizing where she was heading. The sub-level wasn’t her usual hideaway, but her curiosity got the best of her today. That determination on James’s face, the resolution to make things right by the teenager upstairs… it was a side of him she hadn’t really seen before.

Not that his moral compass was broken, or that he didn’t care, but he was so good at separating himself from all the world’s evil. Too good at not getting sucked into every sad story or justification for bad actions.

She’d never seen him so affected by a case, and it made her wonder why this one was so different.

Was it because she was a kid? Because she had no agency? Because he saw a part of himself in the conversation about danger and control around the table?

The prickle of nerves and jittering thoughts drifted down the halls, and it was hard to tell one thread of fear from the other. A bald, middle-aged man sat across from the one-way glass in Room A, while the scruffier accomplice was across the hall in Room B. Both stewing. 

Allowing them to unravel alone in a room was one of Sam’s favourite tactics. 

To Wanda, it was nauseating. Raw emotion and pulsing thoughts like someone pacing in a silent room. A clock ticking. Counting down. She was already tired, and this wasn’t helping her headache, but she needed to know James was fine.

She didn’t know why, but she did.

James was hunched over a tablet resting on a table down the hall. His eyes flicked up to her at the sound of her shoes, clicking on the concrete.

“You here for the show?” the edge from the discussion upstairs lingered on his tone.

Wanda didn’t take his bait, knowing it was just deflection. 

“Did they get anything?”

“Not yet,” James answered. “I was just going over what they already said so I can take a shot at it. One of them’s a glorified intern, though, so we’ll see how quick he breaks.”

She nodded, watching as he rolled up his grey shirt sleeves, so the black and gold metal of his forearm peeked out. He was still rigid, all harsh, jagged lines radiating frustration that she didn’t need to tap into to feel. Grey eyes caught her taking him in, and she gave a guilty half-smile.

“They say anything else up there?” he asked more softly.

“Sam wants to see what these two say. I’m going to try to win Isolde’s trust. We’ll meet again tomorrow with all of the information,” Wanda explained. “And, for the record, I agree with you.”

Surprise flashed across his face for a second, and he nodded, “‘preciate it. You’re good with the kid.”

“She’s just scared,” Wanda brushed off. “A little kindness can go a long way.”

He thought for a moment, turning towards the interrogation rooms, and Wanda almost assumed he was done with the conversation in his own way. Until he stopped mid-pace, turning to tell her, “You should try taking her out of the room. If you’re trying to build rapport.”

Her eyebrow quirked up in surprise before she could stop it, “That’s a good idea. Thank you, James.”

“I was serious, though,” he added with a smirk. “You should stick around. You might even get something you can use with her.”

Wanda saw through his pretext, even if he didn’t, but she followed him towards the room anyway. 

Hidden behind the one-way glass, her thoughts drifted, watching him in his element. The scowl and the gruff tone he slipped into, so different from the softer side he’d been sneaking her lately. He was a predator circling his prey.

The white wolf in the flesh. She could see why the Wakandans had given him that name.

“Thomas Greenwich,” he slapped a file folder down on the steel table. “Low-level petty crimes. A little theft. A couple B and A’s. An arson charge that was almost instantly cleared by your ex-wife. You really want to add forcible confinement and kidnapping to that list?”

“I swear to god, I already told the other guy we had nothing to do with that kid!”

“Then how the _fuck_ did she end up handcuffed in the back of _your_ car?” Barnes shoved a finger at a close-up 4x6 of Iz’s bruised wrists.

Thomas’s bald head was bowed, eyes not meeting the page. He looked reluctant to answer, muscle in his neck hopping as he stared down at the table. 

As much as Wanda wanted so badly to step in and read his thoughts, her powers erred on the inadmissible side in court. Anything gained by those means likely wouldn’t hold up. They’d fought that battle before, enough to know that they would have to do things like interrogation the unenhanced way, to get him to say it aloud himself. 

Otherwise, the case would likely be dropped, and no one would get the justice they deserved.

Barnes slammed his vibranium hand on the table, leaving a dent in its wake, “Stop fucking around and tell us the truth. I’m pretty sure whoever that kid was with before you assholes isn’t going to be too happy you got yourselves caught, huh? They going to come after you?”

Fear. She didn’t need to do anything to feel _that_. There was a real threat behind that sweat, that racing pulse, those tears in the corners of his eyes. He and his partner were in real trouble, and he knew it.

Thomas visibly paled, fear thick in the air as he mumbled, “We don’t know _who_ they are.”

Barnes looked a little less angry, voice dropping down a few decibels.

“So, they will come after you?” James tried again, pulling out the chair at the other end of the table, looking him eye-to-eye. 

“I don’t know what Greg got himself into,” Thomas admitted. “But I don’t think it’s good news.”

Wanda could see the moment James’s patience snapped at the other man’s inability to get the point, “How’d you get the kid?”

Thomas seemed to struggle with the answer, cracking his knuckles as if to buy time. 

But Barnes was done with waiting, hopping to his feet before he tugged the man by the collar, forcing him to meet his eyes, “Don’t fuck with me.”

Thomas cleared his throat as it was freed, “It was after a drop-off just outside Niagara Falls.”

“Which side of the border?” It was almost a snarl.

Thomas’s guilty look confirmed their suspicion before the words left lips. This crossed borders. This teen, the one they held upstairs, somehow got from the south-east tip of the country north to Canada? This was becoming more convoluted by the second.

Was someone trafficking mutants?

“We were just running the usual bulk order.” _Drugs_ Wanda thought bitterly. They probably supplied whoever had been sedating her. “Maybe two days ago now? Instead of payment, they said they had the kid. They said we could use her.”

“Use her, how?” James’s jaw was clenched so tightly Wanda wondered how he hadn’t cracked his teeth yet.

“N-not how you’re thinking. Man, I would never do that to a kid. I don’t know _what_ they meant.” Barnes’s hand wrapped itself in his shirt, tugging him up and out of his chair as he yelped, “I swear to _God_ , I don’t know!”

Steel grey eyes darted between Thomas’s before he finally dropped him back into his seat.

“Get comfortable, asshole. You’re going to be here for a while,” Barnes spat out, slamming the door to the interrogation room behind him.

Wanda met him in the hall, watching as he paced and flexed his fists.

“You think he was telling the truth?” James asked her, but he seemed to already know the answer.

“I can’t be certain without breaking our own rules, but I think so. I don’t think they had her long.”

“Me either,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But no use barking up the wrong tree. You going to go talk to the kid?”

Wanda nodded, “Is the other henchman next?”

She knew he’d want to have a go at the partner after managing to get an inkling out of the first session. But his eyes didn’t leave Wanda as he spoke, warily looking for any sort of reaction after watching him in his element. 

When he didn’t find any, he replied, “Yeah, I’m hoping he’ll give us a name. Anything, really. But the kid’s probably our best bet.”

With both their missions clear, Wanda grabbed James’s forearm for good luck, hand slipping down slightly as she walked away. He caught it in his, interlacing their fingers for a quick squeeze that stopped her in her tracks.

Something inside her fluttered, heartbeat louder now. Whatever the feeling was, it was oddly familiar. Warm, almost?

She tried to hide the blush at reading too much into the simple gesture. James wasn’t typically touchy, but she was sure it was an accident. Like going in for a hug and winding up at a cheek kiss. 

“Good luck, James. I hope you get something out of him,” she offered, trying to excuse her lingering.

Letting go gracefully, she shot James a tight smile and quickly retreated to the main floor. The building was quieter now, just a few agents and medical team members wandering the halls, so she had some time to catch her breath and steady her thoughts.

Rhodes, Clint and Sam were on a last-minute request from Scott and Hope, so they’d be out of commission for the day, flying to and from the West coast. So much for Scott’s time off. And Hill was working remotely on some other project —probably for Fury— for at least another week.

Which left just Wanda, James and Bruce at the Compound, along with Exeter and the auxiliary team.

It wasn’t until she checked her watch that Wanda realized it was lunch, and that it was a good time to see if Isolde had eaten yet. She double-checked with the medical staff that the girl wasn’t on a special diet for any testing before she stopped by her room. Knocking on the door, she waited for the squeak of a “Come in!” before pushing open the doors. 

If Iz was going to trust her, she would have to be careful with boundaries. Even more cautious with what she’d learned from her captor, knowing she’d already been frightened at the thought of that line of questioning.

Wanda was pleased to see she’d changed into regular clothes, leggings, and a t-shirt from the Compound’s stash of spare clothing. Her black hair was brushed and braided, resting on her shoulder. And while there was a hint of uncertainty in the air, it seemed she had her emotions under control. 

To anyone else, she would have looked like a typical teenager, but Wanda and the entire medical wing knew she was much more than she appeared.

“Have you had lunch yet? I can make you something if you want.”

A cautious smile crossed Isolde’s face, “OK. I mean… I’m allowed outside the room?”

“I’ll be with you, so we can go wherever you want,” Wanda clarified. “But we can talk to Sam when he’s back about letting you get some fresh air, so you’re not cooped inside all the time.”

She knew that restlessness all too well.

Fidgeting with her hands, Isolde looked up to Wanda, “I’d like that.”

“I hope you don’t mind leftovers,” Wanda offered with a chuckle as she led her to the kitchen. 

Iz took a seat at the island, head propped on her hands, watching as Wanda rummaged through the fridge. The fridge at the Compound was a disaster, and what she assumed living with a bunch of American college students would feel like. So it took a while for her to pick through their options and a lot of effort for Wanda to hold back the grimace at a couple things that were probably now sentient.

“There’s some chicken, some grilled vegetables. I could whip up a sandwich if you’d like?”

“A sandwich would be great,” Isolde said, eyes wandering around the room to the couches and screens, the modern art and the plush carpets. “Is this all for you guys? Your team?” her eyes alight as she got lost in the vastness of the fridge

“We also train agents here, to help around the Compound and out in the field,” Wanda explained, watching the girl’s green eyes light up.

“So, you guys are superheroes?”

Wanda smiled at her curiosity, “Some call us that, yes. Our group is named The Avengers, but it’s a little silly, I think.” Wanda snuck her a wink, earning a giggle in agreement.

“I didn’t think they were real.”

Wanda had to hold back a frown, turning her face to focus on the bread and deli meat assembly. Had she never seen television, movies, or even books? Iz was seventeen and had never heard of the Avengers? Not to flout her own ego, but that seemed unlikely unless she’d been underground this whole time.

But now she eyed the teen a little more skeptically, looking for some sort of marker, some visible sign of a life in captivity. But beyond her amazement at the space around her and her skittish nature, she couldn’t find anything. Not until she tucked a piece of hair behind her ears, and Wanda spotted a flash of silver.

But she had to be careful. Too nosey and she might scare her away, so Wanda tucked it out of mind for another conversation.

“What does everyone else do?”

Wanda smiled, a little caught off-guard at having to explain her coworkers. It was hard to do them justice in a sentence.

“You saw James, he’s highly trained. Very fast and excellent out in the field,” Wanda hesitated to mention guns or knives —those were his specialties— but not precisely lunchtime conversation with a teenager. “Sam used to be in the Air Force, and he’s the Captain. Clint is what’s called a marksman. He usually uses a bow and arrow. And Rhodes, he works with the government. He helps to make sure people like us are protected.”

The teenager looked lost in thought while she chewed in silence.

“That’s a lot of special people,” Iz said softly.

“There used to be even more of us,” Wanda responded before she could stop herself. Taking a breath, she added, “But that’s a conversation for another time, I think.”

Isolde seemed to sense the sadness there, expression dropping into something sombre as she stared at her plate. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

And it was then that Wanda was taken off guard, five simple words hung like a weight in the pit of her stomach. Like the tables had turned on her, and it was her emotions and life on display for once.

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for,” Wanda said quickly. “They’re in a better place.”

The quiet that followed was deafening to Wanda, suddenly upset at herself for having taken the conversation in this direction. So much for seeming like she had it all together. For being a positive role model to this girl going through what she once did. For not letting the conversation end up at the inevitable.

A life of loss, and the lies she told herself to make it feel better.

“You really think that?” Iz chewed on her lip, meeting Wanda’s eyes for only a second, but she could see the hope there.

“I do.”

And she did, to an extent.

The rest of lunch was quiet chatter, with Wanda telling her all about Sokovia and her life there. It hadn’t escaped Wanda’s notice that Isolde hadn’t asked about her parents or family, or even what the next steps were. She wasn’t sure if it was fear of being reprimanded or fear of the answer. 

It was two hours later when she looked at the time. Iz was already yawning, probably worn out from the shock of waking in a strange place and the remnants of what was in her system.

“How about I drop you off in your room for a nap, and then I’ll come to get you closer to dinner? Hopefully, the team will be back, and you can meet them.”

Iz nodded, hiding another yawn behind her hand as Wanda took her plate. Her ploy would secretly buy herself a few extra hours of sleep. As comfy as James Barnes was, her mind was restless and body tired.

With Iz tucked safely in her bed, Wanda found her own and was out before her head hit the pillow.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one goes out to [@treaddelicately](https://archiveofourown.org/users/treaddelicately) because she's been my Winterwitch enabler and personal cheerleader 💜

Something didn’t add up here.

Bucky had been saying that to himself from the beginning, ever since that stupid silver sedan went off the road, in fact. But now it was plain as day. This was big. Possibly bigger than Sam and him big, and he wasn’t even sure yet just how deep this particular rabbit hole went.

Hunched over a tablet at the table in the basement, Bucky’s ears perked up at the sound of footsteps near the upstairs landing. He shot a glance to the stairwell and found Wanda descending, sweater swaying with every footstep.

“I was going to ask if you wanted dinner, but you got something out of him,” Wanda realized with wide eyes. “Didn’t you?”

“Colcord,” Bucky said in a low voice, staring at the screen and flipping through files, trying to find something useful. “He said his contact’s name was Dr. Colcord. Didn’t even get a full name. Had no idea who he was doing business with, the idiot.”

Bucky didn’t know a lot about doctors outside of his time with Banner and the less-than-pleasant experiences as the Soldier, but he did know that having one be a contact in a case was rarely a good sign. Needless to say, he was already on edge.

And it was getting harder to hold back the thoughts of him putting his fist through cueball’s head.

Wanda looked like she was about to say something as the basement door flung open, slamming against the wall guard. The pair stilled, smooth faces looking more on edge as they both turned towards the footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Uh, Barnes?” Exeter called ahead as she came into view, and Bucky let his guard down a little. “It looks like the kid’s mom is here to pick her up.”

“What?”

“Already?”

The questions flew out of their mouths before they could stop themselves. Bucky and Wanda stared at each other, a silent ‘what the fuck?’ reading across both their faces.

“How did she even get here?” Bucky asked, thoughts whirring, trying to put the pieces together.

“Sam found a missing persons report before he left, asked me to look into it. There was no photo on file at first, but once we got a hit, we got in touch,” Exeter explained, looking a little more nervous at the follow-up questions. “I guess she hopped on a plane or something.”

“Where’s Bruce?” Wanda asked suddenly, making Bucky’s eyes narrow.

He could feel the urgency in her question, see the worry in her face, though Exeter probably didn’t. Considering how evasive her query was, it might have been better that way, actually.

“In the lab. We thought we could just do a hand-off.”

“You clear it with Sam?”

“No, we can’t get in touch with them right now, but I mean, it’s her _mom_. We don’t really have authority over a minor if there’s a parent present,” Exeter shrugged, looking between them to make sure she wasn’t missing something. “Plus, shouldn’t we try to get her home as soon as we can?”

As much as he was giving Exeter shit for blowing protocol, a part of Bucky would have felt a little better about handing the kid back to some long lost parent. The other hypothetical option, where the girl potentially became a weapon for hire, wasn’t top of his list for anyone.

No one deserved that life, never mind a kid.

But something about the way Wanda was looking at him, seeing that unconvinced expression on her face. That doubt, the worry. There was something there, something she couldn’t say in front of the agent.

Bucky trusted Wanda enough to try and buy them all some time to talk about it in private.

“Exeter, we’re going to talk about this later, but I need you to stall her until we get up there.”

“From leaving? She’s already with her daughter.”

Of course.

Regardless of the outcome at the end of this, he was going to have quite the chat with Sam and Hill when the team got back. A long fucking list of security and operations processes that clearly weren’t being adhered to. This whole scenario reeked to high heaven and god damn did Wilson need to get the crew in line.

Bucky gritted his teeth, “Yeah. From _leaving_ the goddamn building.”

Wanda’s hand gripped his forearm a lot harder than expected, just as Exeter turned to leave. While knuckles and wide eyes, she whispered, “I can’t feel her.”

And he knew immediately what she meant.

“Are you sure?”

He didn’t know how her powers worked, if this was somehow different because Iz was also powered or what, but if Wanda was concerned, he sure as hell should be too.

She nodded, “Something’s wrong.”

If they were walking into a trap, if an enemy had just walked into the compound, they were fucked. The surveillance room was upstairs, as were the rest of the agents, so they couldn’t head them off. She was already with Isolde, manipulating god knows who, so they couldn’t keep stalling down here.

And to top it all off like a fucking sundae, there was no way someone would just waltz in here of all places without a plan. Weapons. Training. Briefing on whoever could be in the compound.

Did they know Sam and the rest of the team were offsite? Would they be prepared for them?

They were twenty steps behind whatever asshole designed this situation, and they needed to get up to speed quick.

“Can you read the _mother_?”

“Just thoughts on the surface,” Wanda said, brow furrowed. “I can’t get anything deeper. I’m too far, and I don’t _know_ her, or her mind. They’ve shown her around the compound, but I think she’s in Iz’s room.”

So much for buying time. Just what she needed, a goddamn tour.

They needed to act fast.

“I need you to act like everything’s fine until we get ahold of the situation,” Bucky murmured. “We can’t tip anyone off until we assess. Covert comms, you got it?”

Her eyes widened slightly, hesitantly nodding. She knew what that meant.

That was their signal, the flip of the switch he never thought he’d use. But here he was, offering her permission to do the thing he’d feared. The key to his brain, or however the hell it worked. It was the team and the girl on the line, so they needed all the help they could get.

“I won’t use it unless we need to,” Wanda promised, but his mind was already made up.

They quickly made their way upstairs, winding through the halls to medical. Bucky took every corner like he was in enemy quarters, assessing every agent that passed like he was fresh out of cryo. It felt too cold, too soldier-like.

Fuck, he hated this feeling.

Already outside the door to flag them down, Exeter looked guilty as they walked in, but Bucky kept his face neutral before assessing the pair. The woman in front of him could have looked like any other mother in line at the grocery store. Tan, dark hair, ice blue eyes in jeans and a goddamn t-shirt.

It was almost too generic like she’d just walked into Target and pulled the first three things off the rack.

“Theresa,” she introduced with a smile, hand outstretched. “Thank you so much for taking care of little Isolde here. I was beside myself when she went missing.”

Bucky nodded and shook her hand, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes, and the kid wouldn’t meet his. Something was wrong. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end at those dead eyes staring back at him, and he almost missed her question.

“Do you know who took her?”

“Still figuring that out,” Bucky replied levelly, a beat too late.

“That’s alright, we’ll get her home while you all figure it out. Safe and sound, all thanks to you!”

Something like a whimper came out of Isolde’s mouth, a choked sob as her mother clambered to draw her into an embrace.

“Oh baby, I know, you’ve been through so much. It’s time to come home now,” Theresa soothed, hand rubbing sloppy circles on her back.

The body language was all wrong. He could see how Iz strained against the woman’s grasp, neck-craning away from her like it burned. Like she wanted to back herself into a corner and escape the hold, but she didn’t say anything. Bucky stood still, too still for his liking. He was fighting the urge to sweep her up and get her the fuck out, but he was waiting on Wanda’s signal.

‘ _James, the necklace. _’__

It was the oddest sensation, like a whisper echoing off the inside of his skull. It was in Wanda’s voice, very clearly not his own thoughts, and it cut right through the whirr of surveillance and processing that usually occupied his brain. Bucky’s eyes locked on the silver star pendant around Iz’s neck.

That wasn’t there before.

‘ _I think it’s part of an inhibitor. Can you get it off? There might be a deterrent._ ’

So use the vibranium hand. Got it.

Bucky tried not to make eye contact with Wanda, bending down and putting on his warmest face, “Isolde, can I get a hug before you go?”

The girl looked up to Wanda, who nodded before she launched herself into his arms. He didn’t miss the way her fingers burrowed into the back of his shirt, how her breath caught in her chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

“You’re safe,” he whispered in her ear as he reached around her, quickly snapping the necklace chain between his fingers. It was white-hot, so much so that Bucky chucked it across the room without thinking, the scalding feeling lingering in his fingertips as he hissed.

The effect was instantaneous.

It was like a pulse of energy shot through them, the fear and anxiety, the panic, the rage. Looking around, he could see the others affected, the same pained expression on their faces. It bowled over everyone in the room except Bucky, holding Iz tightly against him and backing his way towards the door to get her to safety.

Just when he thought he was in the clear, he spotted Theresa moving, fighting against the girl’s hold. If his math was right, he was pretty sure if he let go of the kid, he’d be hit by her powers, but he needed her to get to safety.

He might be able to manage the mother if he fought hard enough against it.

“Run,” he managed to say as he pushed her out of his grasp. “FRIDAY, lock whatever room she gets into.”

A wave of emotion flowed through him as he watched her run down the hall as if in slow motion, the acid bubbling up from his stomach.

“ _Yes, Sergeant Barnes. Initiating emergency lockdown procedure._ ”

He was just about to turn, see if he could do something to restrain Theresa, as something latched onto him, and the familiar jolts of electricity shot up and down his spine. His vibranium arm fell limply at his side as he sank to the floor, vision going spotty as he groaned.

“You… bitch…” Bucky growled, lips too numb to feel the words form.

But Iz must have been across the compound by now; the effect was starting to wear off enough for Wanda to restrain their guest in strands of glowing red. Eyes alight and rage palpable, Bucky almost thought Wanda had gone too far when Claudine’s head fell limply to her chest. Until he turned to see Exeter panting by the door, Icer in hand, as the red glow retreated and Wanda collapsed.

“My bad,” Exeter huffed out. “I didn’t even think…”

“—No, you didn’t,” Bucky groused, shakily getting to his feet. “Take her to a cleanroom. Who knows what the fuck else she has on her. FRIDAY, where’s the kid?”

“ _I’ve notified her that the room is clear, Sergeant Barnes. I’ve also taken the liberty of notifying Doctor Banner._ ”

Honestly, the AI gave him the creeps most of the time, but at least it was useful to keep the kid safe.

With a grunt, Bucky ripped whatever ‘Theresa’ had thrown on in off his arm. He flipped the tiny disk between his fingers in awe and rage. Reverse engineered Widow bites? Where the fuck did they manage to pull these from? He seethed at the disrespect to his fallen friend’s memory.

Exeter and another agent pulled the unconscious body out of the room, leaving Bucky and Wanda alone for the moment, and it was then he realized she hadn’t moved.

“Wanda?”

She was still on the floor of the med bay. Had she been hit too? Bucky frantically dropped to his knees in front of her, searching her for any sign of injury. His fingers nimbly pulled up her sleeves, feeling for damage in her clothing as he held her in his grasp, but he couldn’t find anything, and he worried about moving her too much in this state.

“Hey, Wan,” he tried softly, cupping the side of her face, fingers threaded through her hair.

She groaned, struggling to open her eyes, clearly exhausted. Bucky sighed, relieved at the motion, no matter how minimal, and leaned his forehead against hers.

“Iz is safe, Theresa’s going to lock-up. You did good,” he assured quietly, and he swore he could see her lip twitch.

He’d seen her powers take it out of her sometimes, but never up close like this. The blood pumping in his ears drowned out everything except his internal dialogue, trying to tell himself that she’d be just fine. After all, she’d been through worse, and Wanda was probably the strongest out of all of them.

Bucky was so concerned he didn’t notice Iz slip back into the room behind him, kneeling on the floor beside Wanda. Her eyes shone with tears, body shuddering as she hunched over Wanda’s unconscious form.

“Please wake up. Wanda, please. I’m so sorry, this is all my fault. I never should have let you take me. I didn’t mean to get anyone hurt,” Isolde sobbed, new waves of emotions blanketing the room.

If he’d expected normal waterworks, Bucky would have been sorely mistaken. It was like his head was full of cotton, scratchy and fuzzy around the edges. Sadness? No, this was regret, deeper than the depths even he was used to. The kind that twisted his insides and set a lump in his throat, even without her impact. Ice cold and all-consuming.

Bucky had to get Iz under control before the effect spread. It didn’t seem like the right time to test her powers’ reach.

Still on his knees —his choice, this time— Bucky cautiously approached her with his working hand, laying his right arm around her shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze towards his chest.

“Kid,” his throat was tight, voice cracking at the single syllable. “Iz, Wanda’s going to be fine. It’s not on you. You’re fine.”

He expected some resistance, but she didn’t fight him, tucking herself under his chin. And for a second, he was transported back to the ’40s, arm wrapped around his little sister instead.

“It’s all my fault. I should have told you. I should have warned you,” she cried, and the sound seemed to bounce off every corner of the room.

“Not your fault…little one…” Wanda groaned, eyes fluttering open as she winced. “I am here. Just tired.”

Bucky watched Iz pull Wanda into a tight hug and almost lurched forward to pull her back, had it not been for Wanda’s reassuring look over the teen’s shoulder. He realized his hand was still on Iz’s shoulder, rubbing her back absentmindedly as she let it out.

“What the hell happened?” Bruce’s voice carried from the doorway, glasses askew he stared at them.

Iz jumped out of her skin, instinctively hiding behind Bucky as fear prickling his brain. At least she trusted him enough to not bolt.

“He’s a friend, Iz. This is Bruce. He’s kind of in charge of the science-y stuff around here. Bruce, Isolde,” Bucky said levelly, shooting Bruce a look he hoped he’d be able to translate. Something along the lines of ‘handle with care.’

“Hi,” Bruce said distractedly, looking past them both at Wanda. “Uh, not to belabour a point, but, are you guys alright? FRIDAY said there was a security incident?”

Iz was pressed firmly against his back, hands gripping his shirt so tightly it’d probably leave marks in the fabric. He could feel her shaking slightly as Bruce spoke, but the fear she projected into his head had faded. Honestly, he was pretty proud she hadn’t flipped out at the sight of the large, green man in their presence.

She’d done a lot better than he would have expected.

“Just had a little situation. It’s handled,” Bucky said dismissively, trying to keep his voice level and steady. “But I might need you to look at my arm. Wanda might need some looking at too.”

And Iz, but they weren’t about to pull that card so quickly after losing control. Still raw, still scared, it wasn’t a good idea to interrogate her right now. The teen stiffened, eyes like saucers as Bruce approached him, frowning at his useless limb.

“Looks like it’ll need a reset. Want to come to the lab?”

Looking behind him, seeing the fear in Iz’s eyes and Wanda still struggling to stay awake, he knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to leave the room.

“You should probably check on Wanda first, doc. I can wait.”

Bruce looked between them confused —it was unlike him to put up with an out-of-commission arm— but didn’t say anything.

Isolde’s eyes shot between Wanda and Bucky as Bruce approached as if she was afraid he would take Wanda from them.

“Kid, you can sit with me. We’ll stay here with Wanda,” Bucky offered, scooting back against the wall to give Bruce some room to work, patting the ground on his left with his right hand.

If Iz could see Bruce taking care of Wanda, it might help ease her from her default ‘on edge’ mode. They watched as Bruce asked Wanda a few questions, making sure she didn’t have a concussion or anything beyond power-induced exhaustion. Bucky watched the pair intently, focussed as Wanda answered, voice tired and crackling.

Iz’s voice broke him out of his drifting thoughts.

“Does it hurt?”

He looked down to follow her gaze, big green eyes travelling the gold lines and vibranium mechanical detailing.

“My arm? No, it’s just dead weight,” Bucky replied, observing her. She was less closed off now, watching on cautiously as Bruce and Wanda talked. “Are you hurt?”

Iz shook her head, “Just tired, but like, too tired to fall asleep, you know?”

She reached up to scratch at the scabs on her face.

“Hey, don’t pick at that,” Bucky chided, nudging her with his bum shoulder. “But yeah, it’s normal to be a little jittery, considering everything.”

She gave a humourless laugh, fidgeting with her fingers as she looked down.

“I think we both know nothing about this is normal,” Iz told him, eyes glossy with tears. “I shouldn’t be here. I almost got you guys hurt.”

It tugged at his heartstrings, knowing there was nothing he could do to take that feeling away from her: the guilt and the heartache building up in her like bricks. At the same time, there was so much they didn’t know about the whole situation. A lot she hadn’t told them.

He was done with the secrets, and Iz was old enough to be honest with her.

“Kid, this isn’t on you. I told you. But we’re going to need you to be straight with us from here on in, OK? We can help,” Bucky offered, trying to convince her.

There was something in her eyes; he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen since war. That raw, animalistic terror. The kind you know the face of when you realize what’s hiding in the dark places—those things you just couldn’t put to words.

“You don’t _know_ them. This is nothing. They’re not going to stop.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes darting to make sure Bruce and Wanda were still occupied. Too occupied to pay attention to what he was about to say.

“But I know you,” Bucky said softly, resolutely. “I’ve been where you are now, and I’ll tell you right now this team doesn’t give up on people. I don’t give up on people. You should see some of the masochists I hang out with,” he joked.

Her mouth twitched at his comment, tears slipping free as she sniffled. He couldn’t take it, that sound of crying and shaky breaths. All he could see and hear was Rebecca. He pulled the kid into his side with his working arm, holding her as she stilled.

By the time Wanda and Bruce had wrapped, Isolde was asleep, so Bruce helped him get her into bed —thankfully, that was a lot easier now that he was part Hulk.

Wanda tucked Iz in, taking the time to fluff her pillow and brush the hair out of her face before the trio settled in the hall. James hovered a little behind her, watching over the exhausted redhead. Wanda managed to walk in a (wobbly) straight line, so James resisted the urge to help prop her up. He might have been a limb down, but the instinct was still there.

“Did she tell you anything?” Bruce asked Bucky. “You know the team’s going to ask.”

Bucky hesitated on what to tell him, “Just that she feels guilty about it. She knows more, but I think she’ll be honest with us.”

Bruce looked like he was going to suggest something before Wanda beat him to the punch.

“You saw her. We can’t push her, Bruce,” Wanda sighed. “Not after what she’s gone through. Let’s wait until morning. Sam and the team will be back tonight. I’ll try to calm her down.”

He seemed to consider it, eyes drifting through the observation window before settling on his tablet’s notification. He passed it to Bucky, who went through some findings from Exeter on their latest acquisition.

“I don’t like it,” Bruce said finally. “Someone being able to just walk in here. Are we sure the girl isn’t in on this?” he tilted his head towards the observation window.

Between the last twenty-four hours and the last twenty minutes, Isolde would have had to have been an Oscar winner to pull off that good of a performance, Bucky thought bitterly. But Bruce hadn’t seen what they had; he had a right to be skeptical.

“I’m sure,” Wanda confirmed.

“I guess we’re holding onto the bozos in the basement,” Bucky griped, flipping through the tablet’s security screens. “I’m sure she was here to take them out too, based on how many weapons Exeter found on her,” he flipped through the notes, gritting his teeth at just how close some of their weapons were to their own.

Bruce shrugged. It was more of a Sam issue, he knew that, but Bucky just wanted to let the frustrated sentiment out before he exploded. And then they were back to silence, not sure how to proceed next. Between the three locked up in custody and the empath who was at the center of it all, it felt more like a game of cat and mouse.

“Is someone going to watch the kid?” Bucky asked, handing the tablet back to the doctor.

He tried to ignore Wanda’s eyes and the lurch in his stomach at the thought of leaving her alone after what had just happened, but he couldn’t tamp down the need to protect the kid.

Bruce already had his nose in his tablet, distracted.

“I’m sure we can get security?”

Bucky pretended to consider it for a moment before he shook his head, “I’ll stay with her after you fix my arm.”

“She’ll be out for a little while. I’ll get washed up and sit with her until you get back,” Wanda added, eyes warming as she seemed to search his face. “We’ll all get some rest and be better off tomorrow morning.”

He shot her a grateful nod.

“But first, your arm,” Bruce said, thoroughly confused at the silent moment between them, but not about to ask. “Follow me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying all the soft little moments. See you this time next week!


	8. Chapter 8

Iz’s eyes were slits as Wanda walked in, in fresh clothes and hair still wet from her shower. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this exhausted after an altercation, but right now, Iz was the focus. Having her kidnappers come after her in what they’d assured her was a safe space would take a lot out of an adult, never mind a teenager.

“How are you feeling?” Wanda asked, pulling a chair to the bedside.

Iz shrugged, not meeting her eyes as she fiddled with the sheets. A little more withdrawn than Wanda had seen her earlier in the day. Though there was no way for Wanda to wipe away the day and instil all that trust they’d built, she wondered if there wasn’t a way to make her feel a little more comfortable.

She knew better than most that it was hard to feel comfortable in a cage.

“Do you want to get washed up? Maybe some clean clothes? I’m sure I have something you can borrow,” Wanda offered. “I can show you my room.”

Iz seemed to perk up at the idea of leaving the med bay, hopeful as she looked at her. Wanda took that as a yes and helped the teenager off the bed, guiding her as they wound through the facility, down hallways and past glass walls. She could see the girl’s eyes widen at the sights and sounds, stopping at the guitar at the side of Wanda’s bed.

“This is me,” Wanda said simply, widening the gap in the door to let them through. “And this is the bathroom.”

It was much bigger and less clinical than the one in medical. Bottles and jars of lotions and potions in the alcove of the shower, barely visible through the frosted glass. Wanda pulled out some fluffy towels and set them on the sink before grabbing some clean sleep clothes from atop a pile of laundry by the door.

“I’ll leave you some clothes on the sink, OK?” Wanda said, watching as Iz got acquainted with the fixtures in the bathroom. “Feel free to use anything there, and if you need something else, I can get it for you.”

There was a hesitation in Iz’s reply like she expected Wanda to take the opportunity away from her in the next breath. Relief washed over her when she didn’t.

“No, thank you. This is more than enough,” Iz said graciously.

Wanda closed the door behind her, heart dropping as she the knob turned again from the inside. The simple act speaking volumes about what the girl had gone through. 

Iz was checking to make sure she wasn’t locked in.

Wanda didn’t say anything, sweeping the room for anything out of place as the shower turned on a few moments later. She fluffed the duvet and tossed a t-shirt in her hamper to clear up her sitting chair. Yawning into her fist, she set herself down on the bed and flipped through her phone.

No news from James or the team, so she assumed everything was as good as it could be.

It wasn’t long before the door cracked open, and a dewy Iz walked back into the room.

“Thank you for the change of clothes,” Iz said quietly. “And the shower.”

Wanda was just glad everything fit, though it still hung loosely off her frame. Still, it was better than the day’s clothes, that likely still had the memory of what she’d been through.

“It’s nothing,” Wanda waved off.

Iz’s eyes wandered to shelves of books and photo frames, nervously glancing at Wanda for permission.

“You can explore,” Wanda said with a smile.

Who knew what state her accommodations had been in before she’d ended up here. Plus, Wanda was a firm believer you could learn a lot about a person through the way their room was decorated. Iz quickly gravitated to the guitar, stood upright against a stand.

“Do you play?” Iz asked, trailing her finger across the fretboard longingly.

Wanda huffed a laugh, “A little. I am not the best guitarist, but I enjoy it. Do you?”

“I’ve never played an instrument,” Iz admitted. “But, I like music.”

“You know, FRIDAY can play all sorts of music if you ask,” Wanda explained.

“ _Yes, Ms. Maximoff, I can indeed._ ”

Iz looked a little startled at the disembodied voice —it took some getting used to— but smiled at the sentiment. 

“She’s a little formal, but she gets the job done,” Wanda said with a playful grin.

“Is she a computer?” Iz asked. “She helped me find my way back to the room, but I didn’t really understand how.”

“Yes, she’s like a very sophisticated computer program. Made by Tony Stark, who is— _was_ , a genius. He built this whole facility.”

Iz looked up at the ceiling in awe, processing the new information. Her eyes landed on Wanda, who patted the patch of bed beside her in invitation. Iz took it with a little leap. Her legs hung over the edge, dangling above the carpet as she looked around.

Wanda cleared her throat tentatively, “Can I ask you something that may sound silly?” 

Iz nodded, scooting further onto the bed.

“Can I braid your hair?”

Iz looked unsure for a split second before melting into a soft smile, “Sure.”

Wanda shifted behind the girl, combing her long, black hair with her fingers and parting it carefully. Eyes closed, she silently melted into the feeling of Wanda gently combing and plaiting her hair with her fingertips. It was all silence, but Wanda could feel the gentle, peaceful buzz of comfort, of trust, and that was enough for her for now.

From here, the silver implant behind her ear was more visible, and while she was sure Bruce had already noted it in his assessment, Wanda had her own idea of what it was. And just the thought made her blood boil. 

But she settled herself enough to put on a calm face, more interested in making Iz at ease than figuring out motives.

“Pietro used to do this for me when I had nightmares,” Wanda said quietly. “I remember it was soothing.”

Wanda didn’t say anything as a tear slid down the girl’s cheeks, droplets hitting the sheets below them. Iz quickly wiped them away with her fingers. 

“The girls I was held with used to braid each other’s hair,” Iz explained, just above a whisper.

Hesitant to dig too deep and potentially push her away, Wanda had been waiting for an opening to talk.

“Were there a lot of them?” Wanda asked.

Iz looked unsure, “Maybe fifty? I don’t know if there were other rooms.”

How much was she supposed to prod? The lines were starting to blur, knowing that any information —no matter how insignificant it seemed— would help them in the long run.

“Rooms like this one?”

“Yeah, about the size of this. We slept on the floor unless…” Iz’s voice cut off, and her head jerked down to look at the bedding in her lap.

“It’s OK,” Wanda assured with a light brush on her shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about it tonight. Tomorrow we will talk with the team, but I’ll be right beside you.”

Wanda finished tying the end of the french braid, smoothing out some stray hairs at her crown. Iz laid down on her side, horizontal across the foot of the bed.

“And James?” she asked, muffled and sleepy.

Wanda’s eyebrows shot up at the question, a little slow in replying as she tried to get over the shock of it.

“And James. Which reminds me, FRIDAY, if Sergeant Barnes comes looking for us, can you tell him we’re in my room?” Wanda added quickly, realizing after today’s events, he’d likely assume the worst if he arrived at Iz’s empty room.

“ _Certainly, Ms. Maximoff._ ”

Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so surprised; James had jumped in to save her, after all. They had shared something in that moment, in those chats on the floor. He’d calmed her down enough to prevent an emotional meltdown and enough for her to fall asleep on him. 

At that moment, she had seen him the way Steve had. The doting friend, a little too perceptive, protective, but with that hint of mischief. The way he let her see him in ways he hadn’t let others.

It had felt almost intrusive watching them, seeing him in a way she’d never expected.

At some point, after Iz had drifted into soft snores, Wanda slumped into the duvet and let her eyes rest.

For just a moment.

* * *

Once Bruce had reset Bucky’s arm —and asked a few teasing questions about him and Wanda— he got washed up and went to check on the kid. Wanda, too, if he was honest.

He knew she’d be fine, but it had been a surprise to find Iz’s room in the med bay empty hours ago. A quick note from FRIDAY had set him on the right path, and he spotted them dead asleep hodge-podge on Wanda’s bed. Fiery hair strewn across the covers, and eyes screwed shut. Bucky swept a throw blanket off the back of the armchair and carefully laid it over both of them, watching as Iz shifted in her sleep.

He hadn’t really planned on keeping guard, but he sat in wait and full view of the closed bedroom door.

Wanda’s eyes were the first to open, hours later and just after dawn. She was still on the bed, Iz tucked against her chest, chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

Bucky sat upright in her favourite armchair, head slumped a little as he fought off sleep. They had snapped open at the change of her heartbeat, his steel-grey eyes crinkling at the corners at the sight of her looking back at him.

“Morning, sunshine,” he whispered. “How are you feeling?”

A smile stretched across her face, “Much better. Did you keep watch all night?”

“Might have rested my eyes for a minute or two,” Bucky admitted with a chuckle.

Iz was dead asleep, body limp as Wanda slipped out from behind her. She sat on the edge of the bed in front of Bucky, her knees bracketed by his. It was the closest they’d ever been with both of them fully conscious, and he felt a little exposed with her so near.

But somehow they felt different now. Between the past few days and last night, there was this silent agreement between the two of them that things had changed.

They had changed.

And he was more than willing to see it through to find out _how_.

“She asked for you last night. She wanted you to be here,” Wanda said.

His eyes darted to the girl on the bed, face the most at ease she’d seen her in her time there. Their frank discussion still lingered in his mind, and he’d been mulling over how to approach the inevitable team meeting the whole night. Though come to think of it, it was probably a good sign Sam hadn’t demanded to see him as soon as they landed.

Who knows, maybe FRIDAY went to bat for him.

A corner of his mouth lifted, “Well, I’m here.”

Those bright eyes stared back at him, and he got lost in them for longer than he’d like to admit. Before he could realize what was happening, Wanda reached for his hand, clasping it between her own. It took him aback, schooling his expression so she wouldn’t see it and pull away.

Bucky didn’t want to scare her off, though he was a little scared his heart might beat out of his chest.

“I wanted you here too,” she whispered, looking at him through her lashes.

He laced their fingers together, and she realized it hadn’t been a mistake. She drew circles on skin and metal alike, looking up at him like a challenge he would have gladly taken her up on. But the rustle of the sheets behind her clued them into the waking girl on the bed.

Wanda’s hand moved to his knee, patting him softly before she padded to the bathroom to get ready.

“Morning, Iz.”

“James,” she smiled. “You came.”

He couldn’t help the pride that bubbled up in his voice, “Wanda told you I would.”

“ _Now that you’re all up, Captain Wilson is requesting Ms. Ranshaw and the rest of the team in the conference room in ten minutes._ ” FRIDAY stated overhead.

Leave it to Wilson to schedule a meeting before breakfast.

Bucky could hear Wanda muffled through the washroom door. 

“Thanks, FRIDAY,” she emerged from the bathroom with a sheepish look at Iz. “I’ll get you some fresh clothes, so you don’t have to do it in your pyjamas.” 

Iz shrugged, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before taking the offered clothes and headed into the bathroom.

“I like the slept-in look on you,” Bucky shot Wanda with a snicker.

“Hush,” she chided with a smirk. “Technically, your outfit is also slept-in.”

She had him there.

They made their way to meet with the team without much time wasted. Of course, they opened the door to a full house, all staring back at them. 

They really needed to have a talk about not ambushing former captives.

“Iz, this is the team. The team, Iz,” Wanda introduced gently.

Iz looked a deer in the headlights at the faces around the table, eyes wide as she surveyed the inhabitants. That must have been sensory overload for a kid who’d been alone in the medical ward for most of the past few days. Wanda swept in to guide her to an empty chair between herself and Bucky.

“You all alright?” Sam asked, looking genuinely concerned.

“We’re going to have words about security protocol,” Bucky groused to Sam’s conciliatory nod.

He tilted his chin towards Wanda, “And you?”

“Exhausted. I’ve never been that tired before,” Wanda admitted.

“Bruce seems to think it might be an effect of her powers,” Sam said. “Iz might be able to draw from yours to feed her own. Says you might want to ask the Professor about it.”

Realization washed over Wanda’s face at the thought, and she nodded.

Iz, however, looked petrified. Poor thing probably thought she was about to get an earful, or worse.

Bucky reached over to pat her hand, “It’s fine. We know you probably didn’t even realize you were doing it. You’re not in trouble.”

The rest of the table stilled at the sentence, filling in the blanks to where this conversation was headed. This wasn’t about to be some happy-go-lucky childhood story, so they better buckle up if this was headed even half of where Bucky assumed it was.

“OK, kid,” Bucky’s voice was a little firmer now, but still below his regular banter. “You have to tell us everything because, at this point, you’re in danger, and so are the rest of us as long as you keep us sitting in the dark.”

“No matter what it is, none of us in this room are going to think anything of you, OK?” Wanda assured. “We just want to help you. There’s nothing you could tell us that would change that.”

“Start however, or wherever you want to,” Bucky said softly. “Wherever the beginning is for you.”

The heads in the room seemed to snap to attention, all eyes on the kid across the table. The only person who could give them what they needed to know was looking white as a sheet in her chair, pupils pinpricks and hands shaking. A burst of fear shot through the room, but Bucky laid a hand on Iz’s back. 

She winced, realizing what she was doing with an apologetic look, “Sorry, I think I can control it.”

Iz paused, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before continuing. Bucky watched as people rubbed the skin around their wrists and cracked their necks from side to side. Apparently, she’d given them a taste of some of her memories, sobering up the waiting crowd as Iz tried to put the words together.

“I, um— I lied to you,” Iz turned to Wanda apologetically. “I don’t know who my parents are. Don’t know if I ever had parents. My first memories were in a medical facility.” She paused, taking a deep breath to steady her quivering voice. “They told me I was sick, and I believed they were trying to get me better, so I believed them when they told me I couldn’t tell people about my real childhood. That I would be in danger if I did.”

Bucky realized why he’d had that initial gut reaction. Why this felt so different, he could see it now. Maybe it was her tone, or the circumstances, or the way those shadows drifted slightly down her face.

She was Natasha.

“When I was around 13, they moved me to a facility called Neverland. There are… _were_ a lot of kids there. Kids like me. They called us the _future_ ,” she hissed a shaky breath, eyes squinting as she tried to hold back tears. “But the Director, he liked me. He liked telepaths and projectors, so I usually didn’t get the worst of it.”

She would have been about the same age as the Red Room graduation. Hair pulled back from her face. Different time, different place, different circumstances, maybe, but he knew it without her having said a goddamn word. It was that fucking look in her eyes, the way she held herself, how she shirked help. It all added up in the back of his skull before it’d even occurred to him.

“Iz, do you know who the Director was?”

“I don’t know; he was only ever called the Director. But, the Doctor… I remember Dr. Essex,” she said quietly.

Bucky had a hard time keeping his eyes on her, gaze drifting across the room to see the muscles in Clint’s jaw hopping. He would have been having the same thoughts, Bucky would bet. Maybe worse ones.

“Were they all mutants? Like you?” Bruce added, seemingly answering Wanda’s unasked question around the bloodwork.

“I guess,” she mumbled, looking at her lap. “We weren’t allowed to use our powers outside of their tests,” she rubbed the back of her ear absentmindedly.

“An inhibiting implant,” Bruce mused. “We couldn’t learn too much about it without it getting potentially invasive, but Professor Xavier might be able to help.”

Bucky nearly cracked a tooth as he bit back the rage of her having to go under the knife to get control of her own body, all because of those assholes. Physically branded like fucking cattle.

“They train you?”

She shrugged, “They taught us what to say if anyone ever asked us where we came from. How to defend ourselves, but I wasn’t very good at it. I didn’t like hurting people.”

She seemed to shrink into herself at the thought. 

“What happened to the facility?”

“Something went wrong. I think they were trying to get everyone out in a hurry… I don’t know why, but at some point, I was the only one left. There were so many bodies…”

He scrambled to his feet, letting the chair drift against the wall, “I need some air.”

Out of all the people he would have bet to walk out of that room, he wouldn’t have thought he’d be the one with the weak stomach. He wouldn’t have in the past, he was sure of it, even after the Soldier. Bucky found the door at the end of the hall, forcing himself onto the roof overlooking the helipad. 

It was another ten minutes of blissful silence before he could hear the footsteps approaching from inside.

“Where’s Iz?” Bucky asked Wanda without turning around to see her.

“She’s with Bruce and Clint. I made sure she was calm before I left them,” Wanda replied.

Clint was the right choice. His daughter would have been around the same age, and he had seen the rage flash in his eyes at her story.

Wanda slid down the wall, joining his on the floor, thighs touching as she let him have his silence for a beat.

“You miss Natasha,” Wanda said quietly.

Bucky nodded, “Iz just reminds me so much of her. Of the Red Room. Of what they did to those girls. What _I_ did to those girls.”

“That wasn’t you.”

“It was my body, my eyes watching every goddamn minute of it,” Bucky growled, still raw at the memories. “If Iz knew, she’d never feel safe with me again.”

“ _I_ know and I feel safe with you, James,” Wanda assured, laying her hands over his. “I trust you, the team trusts you.”

Her eyes shone in the morning light, hand clasped lightly on his knee. A life preserver if he’d ever seen one.

Did he look that bad off?

If Bucky hadn’t been a coward, he would have done what he’d meant to in the basement. It felt like a year ago at this point, but just reaching out and holding her hand felt like such a mountain to climb.

Where was the Bucky Barnes that would have had any dame kissin’ him before midnight? He fell off the train in ’45 and never found his way back.

“I can’t believe someone would do that to a child,” he admitted, breaking up the momentary lull from his hesitation.

“I can,” Wanda offered. “I saw it first-hand.”

He saw that look of resilience on her face —it looked different from the one he’d seen on the battlefield. This one looked more timeworn, softer like a quiet fire. The kind that snuck up on you and toppled cities silently into the night.

“She looks up to you a lot, you know,” Bucky offered quietly. “Even if she doesn’t know exactly why.”

Her eyes turned a little glassy at that, searching his as he talked.

Bucky continued, “You’re the strongest person I know, Wan. And I’ve known and befriended a lot of noble idiots in my time.”

Before he knew what was happening, her hand was soft on his face, lips planting a kiss on his cheek, an inch from the corner of his mouth: Chaste, teasing, and lingering.

She tilted her head up to look at him, her breath on his face as every thought inside his head disappeared. He was lost in those hazel eyes shining back at him, the scent of her perfume. The feeling of her hand in his. But she was looking for permission, making sure she didn’t step too far across the line that was getting blurrier by the minute.

Did she know what she was getting herself into? Did he?

“Thank you,” she said softly. “But, you’re pretty strong yourself.”

Wanda hadn’t walked away and done the bashful routine, searching his eyes for any sign of hesitation. But she wouldn’t find any. He almost appreciated the quiet. It spoke volumes about her trust in him. Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips; a scruffy thank you that made the corners of her eyes crinkle.

They sat like that for a few minutes, a welcome reprieve from the meeting inside.

“So, how much do you know about this, Professor?”

“I know he’s a good man. He helped me get my powers under control,” Wanda replied. “He’s a very powerful telepath whose life has been devoting to preventing stories like Iz’s.”

Bucky felt better at the thought of Wanda trusting him, of him having helped her. But the more he thought of her leaving the Compound, with nowhere else to go, the more his brain spiralled into concern. And a small part of him, the one he’d tried to shove in some closet of his mind, might have even admitted he’d miss the kid a little.

“Do you think it’ll be a good place for her? The school?”

Wanda seemed to pick up on his hesitation, eyes snapping to his like she was trying to get a read on him. Bucky laced their fingers together, staring out quietly into the field where a group of agents were training.

“If that’s where she wants to go, I think it’ll be a good fit,” she replied.

Maybe they should talk about whatever this was, whatever they wanted it to be. That’s what normal people did, right? Talk about their feelings, ask about status. Did people still go steady these days?

“Wanda?”

“Hm?”

He cleared his throat and settled on a weak, “Thanks.”

The light in her smile made it all worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close to the end of this one! I feel like this story snuck up on me.
> 
> Hope you're enjoying it so far!


	9. Chapter 9

It was hard to get the smile off her face. 

The warm and airy feeling was intoxicating as they sat there, the lingering glow of the barely-there cheek kiss. And as much as she kept asking herself if it was real, whether she was dreaming, the sensation of their hands locked together brought it all down to earth.

Wanda had wondered which was them would give in first. 

The air around them had been different since yesterday. When James’s fingers curled in her hair, forehead against hers, whispered promises. It felt oddly intimate in the aftermath of the day’s events. The way he held onto Iz, assured her safety and comfort ahead of his own. Wanda knew that side of him was in there; it had peeked out occasionally in their time together, but yesterday it had been out in the open, laid bare for her to see, for Bruce to sneak glances of.

And then today, that was all theirs.

She gladly took the silence that followed, broken only by the occasional commands barked by the drill sergeant on the backfield. But James was getting restless, not that his body language gave it away. He was itching for the next fight, the next part of the mission, and she could almost see the processing and plotting behind his eyes.

“Did Iz say anything else after I left?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Just more about the location they kept her. The conditions, the conditioning…” Wanda’s voice trailed off, unsure at how much detail James wanted to subject himself to.

There had been a reason he’d fled the room, after all. Even the former Winter Soldier could only take so much —he was only human.

“Let me guess, slept on the floor, hundreds of kids, forced her to use her powers on innocent people,” James rattled off in a robotic tone, a tinge of anger laced in the words. “I can read between the lines, Wan. Probably could have told you that from the beginning if I had really been paying attention.”

He was right, as usual, at least about Iz’s experience. Hearing the way her voice shook as she detailed one of her last ‘appointments’ with Dr. Essex had been hard to hear, especially for Wanda. But she owed it to Iz to listen, especially when the team had been so quick to make decisions without her say.

Still, she could see the frustration in James’s face. The flicker of doubt in himself.

Wanda shook her head, “She didn’t want either of us to know. Iz was closed off from the moment we brought her in, and we couldn’t have forced it out of her without it going much worse than it did. You know that.”

“Maybe,” James said softly, slumping forward slightly. “But I should have been able to read it a mile away.”

She squeezed his hand, leaning her head on his shoulder. Reading between the lines, Wanda knew this was about more than just today, Iz, or this case.

“You didn’t fail her. You did what was best, and you kept her safe,” Wanda murmured. “You did all the things you couldn’t have done before.”

Between Natasha, himself, all those other people and places where he’d been looking through his own eyes like an outsider, unable to control his actions —there was still a lot of pain there.

James sighed, “Then why do I still feel awful about it?”

“Because you care about her,” Wanda said. “That’s a pretty normal, human reaction.”

A wry smile crossed his face, “Maybe that’s why it feels so weird.”

She let out a breathy laugh, smiling into his arm as his lips met her hair.

They sat out there for another few minutes before the door to the building swung open, revealing a very tall Bruce looking flustered. Both Wanda and James jolted in place, feeling the tension radiating off of him. Considering he’d been processing a litany of tests and research to get to the bottom of Iz’s powers, the reaction wasn’t surprising. But it still felt different for some reason.

Did the timeline for the X-Men’s arrival move up?

“Did you hear from the Professor? When do they land?” Wanda asked as Bruce approached.

“Should be here in an hour. But, uh, it looks like Sam wants you both in on a pre-meeting meeting,” Bruce said with a bashful smile. “He wants to get you all up to speed with the situation.”

Wanda felt James tense beneath her, sitting straighter at Bruce’s words.

“What kind of situation exactly?” James asked stiffly. “And why isn’t Sam out here getting us himself if he wants us so bad?”

Wanda’s jaw clenched at the implication, apparently not reading into things as quickly as James had. The longer the silence hung in the air, the worse the situation seemed.

Bruce grimaced, adjusting his glasses nervously, “I’ll let Sam explain this one.”

Which, frankly, was probably a smart idea, as James was already vibrating beside her at the possibility of something _else_ having gone wrong at the Compound. As if they hadn’t had enough excitement lately. James was on his feet in an instant, helping her up before storming back inside, hot on Bruce’s heels. She could feel the frustration radiating off of him as they wove through the hallways back towards the conference room. 

Sam, Rhodes and Clint were still around the table —maybe they had never left— all wearing similar expressions. The same one they wore when missions didn’t go quite as planned.

“Anyone want to explain who fucked up now?” James gruffed, tactful as ever.

“Uh, so bad news. Theresa escape holding,” Sam announced with a grimace. “And left us a little present,” he added, tipping his tablet screen towards Wanda and James for them to see the grizzly scene themselves. 

The walls of their cells _had_ been a white brick facade, but now all that was left was coppery splatter.

“What?” Wanda couldn’t stop hold back the gasp.

Colonel Rhodes stepped in, likely sensing the rage bubbling up, “She took out our two suspects and somehow tanked the whole security rig. But thankfully, none of our own were injured.”

The whole room seemed to be looking at James for some sort of reaction, but he was completely silent. James looked like he was ready to give Sam hell, presumably detailing all the insufficiencies in the current protocol. As much as she knew how much she loathed the men in the basement, they should have been subjected to the legal system, not killed at the hands of a much bigger situation they’d fumbled their way into.

She winced at the thought of blood spilled in their headquarters, just steps away from their residences, or even where they’d just been meeting. It seemed very much like an inside job, with none of their own employees being casualties, thankfully. 

And the thought of someone being powerful or smart enough to escape _their_ holding made her wonder how powerful whoever _she_ reported to was.

“Are we just completely incompetent or what?” James seethed, huffing out an angry breath as he started to pace the room. “You think that’s a coincidence? She was fine staying in the cell overnight, and _now_ she pulled this? She’s clearly been able to escape whenever she damn well pleased. Took out our whole security grid. The X-team’s just about to show up, and she chooses now to leave?”

“I know, I know—“Sam started, but James wasn’t done.

“Give me a team; I’ll track her.”

It wasn’t a question; it was more akin to an order. Sam’s eyes narrowed slightly, shoulders sagging as he realized just how bad this looked.

“There’s more to consider than just her. With Xavier almost here, I think it’s important we stay put for the moment,” Sam said in his best impression of a Steve voice. “The girl is clearly a target, so it should be all hands on deck.”

“ _The girl’s_ name is Iz,” James replied sharply as if Sam had hit a sore spot. “And I can’t just sit here and not do something when one of the monsters who hurt that kid is out there. Give me a team, and I’ll sweep the area. It’ll take less than an hour with enough men.”

Wanda knew James was trying to lighten that weight on his shoulders, the one that’d likely sat there since he became a brother. She knew that look well. And she knew better than anyone that he wasn’t going to back down until he felt like he’d done his part, so she was willing to help his case.

“I’ll stay,” Wanda offered to Sam, who looked to be searching for the right words. “I’ll stay with Iz and the rest of the team.”

Sam seemed to consider his options, looking back to Rhodes and the rest of the team who merely shrugged. Bruce looked noncommittal, and it wasn’t as if he would be doing any of the heavy lifting with his still-injured arm. Clint looked amused, sitting forward in his seat to stare down James with the hint of a smirk on his face. They would likely have words later.

“Alright, Barnes. Assemble a team. Take whoever you need,” Sam settled, patting James on the back. “Back in an hour, though. We’ll need everyone here once the Professor arrives.”

James nodded, clearly grateful as he jogged out the door, turning a corner and out of sight. The rest of the team took that as their cue to leave. 

Clint was muttering about having to scope out the cell Theresa had been in to try to piece together how the hell she’d managed to escape, never mind breaking into the holding cells in the basement. Clearly, he was on clean-up duty and didn’t sound too happy about the paperwork that he’d just been volunteered for.

But Sam looked like he wanted to talk, nudging Wanda with his elbow as he leaned against the table.

“So, you and Barnes?” Sam shot from the side of his mouth as they watched the rest of the team file out of the room.

“Hm?” Wanda replied, aloof as she avoided his eyes.

Apparently, news travelled fast, but Wanda tried not to give him anything else to work with. She cursed at Bruce internally; he always was a terrible gossip. Sam, frankly, was no better. He just seemed to pick the most inopportune moment to use what he learned to his advantage.

“Oh, that’s cute,” he shot back with a smirk. But his eyes softened in realization as he observed her, “Kind of fast, huh? You think you’re ready for that?”

She knew Sam was looking out for the good of the team, being a good leader. But that didn’t mean he could get away with acting like he knew even half of what she and James shared. Whatever it was. The undefined, nebulous _thing_ they were wrapped up in.

Wanda was just happy to have it at all.

“Is this what Americans call a shovel talk?” Wanda said with a raise of her brows and a hint of deflection. “I didn’t think of you as the fatherly type, Sam.”

She wondered if he was protecting her or James more, honestly unsure. As much as she was treated like a glorified teenager most days, Sam handled James with almost as much care. That difference was that James would loudly protest when he did. She’d always just taken it in good humour.

Perhaps Sam was trying to fill Steve’s shoes in his absence.

Not that either of them needed protection.

“Well,” Sam settled, realizing he wasn’t going to get a straightforward answer from her. “Whatever it’s worth, I’m happy for you. You’ve both come a long way.”

Wanda nodded, blushing slightly, “Thank you. Not that it’s a secret, but maybe keep it to the main team for now?”

The last thing she needed was this becoming some kind of team betting pool.

Sam nodded, “Of course. Whatever you want.”

She appreciated that he wouldn’t try to give her the ‘remember to put the team first’ chat she had been expected. Either that or ‘HR will have a lot of forms for you to fill out’ —but maybe that one was still coming.

“Are you going to give him the same treatment?” Wanda asked, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence.

Sam gave a low chuckle, “You and I both know I’d probably come out of that one limping.”

Wanda smiled, “Or at least a bruised ego.”

He looked a little offended at that one, brows quirked as he set his hands on his hips.

“Are you saying he’s sharper than me? I _know_ you’re not implying that he’s funnier than me,” Sam scoffed playfully, sounding more like his old self. “But seriously, are you alright after yesterday?”

Wanda had been waiting for that question too, having caught him assess her a few times since they’d gotten back from their mission yesterday. He was almost as much of a worrywart as James, though neither of them would ever admit it.

“I’m fine, Sam,” Wanda replied, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Just tired and very ready to find the people responsible for this.”

“You and me both,” he turned serious, scuffing his foot against the floor as he sighed. “You going to go check on Iz?”

She noticed how careful he was to use her name, James’s tongue lashing still fresh on the mind.

“Yes. Hopefully, she’s not too shaken up after the last few days,” Wanda confirmed. “I don’t even know how to tell her that woman is still out there. I don’t know if I should.”

Sam shook his head, disappointment all over his face, “Yeah, I don’t know what to tell you there. I should have pushed more when we got her. Buck’s going to go on a rampage if we can’t tie this one up soon.”

Sam stared down at the tablet, jaw set with a deep crease between his eyebrows. As much as she didn’t always agree with his assessments, Wanda knew Sam was doing the best he could with this slightly-fractured, still-healing team.

“You did what you could,” Wanda assured. “James is just concerned that they just walked in here, putting everyone at risk. Especially Iz. And, to be fair, I think he’s more angry at himself than anyone.”

The silence was palpable, Sam looking almost impressed at her observation as he looked her up and down until his facade cracked.

“ _James_ , huh?” the teasing grin was back in full force.

She choked a laugh, clearly caught.

“Shut up.”

* * *

By the time Wanda got out of the meeting room, FRIDAY had informed her that Iz was in Wanda’s room. She smiled, grateful she felt comfortable enough to stay in a space that wasn’t her own.

“ _Also, Ms. Maximoff, you should probably be aware that Ms. Ranshaw is ill._ ” 

“Ill?” Wanda was startled, picking up her pace towards her room.

Her mind was racing through the possibilities. Perhaps it was nerves or something she ate. Or maybe it was stress? 

“ _I’ve informed Dr. Banner, but due to her nature, he agreed it would be best to wait it out. It may be wise for you to keep an eye on her. Her fever is low-grade, but I can flag if it worsens._ ”

The only other sound Wanda could hear over the thumping in her ears was her hurried footsteps against the tile floor. Her thoughts travelled down the thread of what she knew of empaths —not that Iz had been anything quite like anything Wanda had seen before. Iz could project emotions, and sensations, as evidenced by their meeting, but what happened when she was on the receiving end?

Had they made her sick with their reactions?

“Thanks, FRIDAY,” Wanda said, pushing open her bedroom door. “Iz? Are you alright?”

The girl was lying across Wanda’s bed on her back. Black hair splayed across the duvet. Her arm was crooked over her eyes, blocking out the light, and she was still. Too still for Wanda to be sure she was registering someone was in the room with her.

“Iz, talk to me,” Wanda murmured, lowering her voice.

A whimper escaped her lips as she rolled onto her side.

“It hurts,” Iz groaned, slightly muffled by the blanket.

Wanda sat on the edge of the bed, putting her palm to Iz’s forehead. It was a little warm, but what was worrying was the _other_ sensation prickling her skin. Or lack thereof. Iz was utterly blank, absent of the swirling vortex of emotions she could usually sense this close to her.

“Do you want me to try and help?” Wanda asked, at a loss and not knowing what she was offering. She couldn’t understand what she was dealing with until she reached out.

And Wanda refused to do that outside of Iz’s permission.

“Please,” Iz groaned.

“Alright, little one. Give me a moment,” Wanda whispered, extending red tendrils to link them.

The rush of the transfer was disorienting, but Wanda didn’t want to drag out her pain, trying to move as quickly as possible. Iz’s raggedy breaths lead her into her mind, darker and quieter than before. 

The harsh breathing didn’t let up, getting loud as she dug for something, anything in the deep unfamiliar abyss. It was much harder to find where her feelings were locked away this time. Whereas before Iz’s thoughts and emotions were bursting at the seams, easily accessed by skimming the surface of her mind, this time, they were much, much further. 

Wanda didn’t have enough training to know the mechanics of Iz’s powers, or _why_ she might be inexplicably ill after a hard few days, but most forces operated on a give and take. 

Wanda was beginning to wonder if this was the cost. 

This wasn’t something she could figure out in a day —or even a decade— but she knew if she went deep enough, she could at least relieve her of the pain. And perhaps the Professor could provide more insight when the team arrived.

Finally, she could see the red, pulsing hurt lodged deep within, like a festering wound.

“ _Alright, Iz. I’m going to siphon this away, OK?_ ”

Wanda didn’t wait for a reply, not knowing if the girl was strong or coherent enough to form one in this state. Instead, she focussed on the spot within her energies’ reach, pulling it back towards her, up and away from Iz. Wanda wasn’t quick enough to burn it up before she returned herself to her bedroom, nausea washing over her as her ears started to ring.

Hissing, Wanda used her powers to rid herself of the last of it, leaning her head in her palm as she pushed back the discomfort. It was worth it just to see her eyes crack open alone.

“Wanda? Did it get you?” Iz asked voice strained.

The worry started to fade, and Wanda’s heartbeat returning to its usual rhythm at the sound of her voice.

Wanda took in a deep breath and assured, “I’m fine, don't worry. How long were you sick?”

Iz shrugged, starting to sit up on the bed, “I threw up and then I thought I’d be fine, but…”

Her fingers picked at the pilling on the blanket like she was avoiding the topic, eyes looking a little more focussed.

“Do you know what that was, Iz? Have you ever felt like that before?” Wanda asked, brows furrowed as she grabbed the glass of water from the bedside.

“That…” Iz trailed off into a crackle. “That’s what happens when I feel too many bad emotions.”

She took a tentative sip of water, setting the glass back on the nightstand.

“Did you— have—” Wanda struggled to find the polite version of ‘how often did you captors torture you with emotion to test your ability?’ because she could guess what the answer would be. “Have you felt that way a lot before?”

“Enough,” Iz admitted, burrowing her face into her palms. Wanda’s stomach dropped. “Sometimes they would just drug me after so that I wouldn’t feel it. But for a while, they wanted to see the full effects. See how far they could push.”

Iz didn’t have to say anything further for Wanda to infer the rest, teeth gritting at the thought.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Wanda said, pushing Iz’s hair out of her face. She already felt a little cooler, and the colour was starting to return to her skin. “Later today, you’ll meet Professor Xavier. He helped me a lot with my powers, and I’m sure he can help you with yours.”

Iz sniffled, eyes locked to Wanda’s. 

“He’s like us?”

“Yes, a very powerful telepath. He’s a good man. I trust him with my life.”

She could feel Iz settle at that, a little less rigid. Wanda smoothed the girl’s hair with her hands, still crimped from that morning’s braid, long abandoned. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Iz that Theresa was still out there. Not now. Not when she was already struggling.

She’d wait until the Professor arrived and could monitor her reaction.

“Thank you for helping me,” Iz said quietly. “I was afraid that you would be mad.”

“At you being sick? That’s not your fault,” Wanda soothed.

“At not being strong enough.”

Wanda’s heart broke, twisting uncomfortably in her chest at the girl’s admission. As much as she’d opened up the past few days, Wanda knew Iz would have a long road ahead of her yet.

“You’re very strong, Iz. But it’s OK to need help sometimes,” Wanda said softly. “I promise you can be open with us. We trust you, OK?”

Iz shimmied across the bed towards Wanda, throwing her thin arms around Wanda’s middle in silent thanks. Wanda, feeling the pleasant warmth in her chest and the trust in Iz’s touch, placed her hands over the girl’s, content.

She snored softly, head in Wanda’s lap, ring-clad fingers trailing through her dark locks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More complications and soft moments. 
> 
> The next chapter is one of my favourites, so I'm looking forward to seeing you all this time next week!


	10. Chapter 10

Bucky was not happy.

A full goddamn trained crew, and none of them could make heads or tails of what had happened with Theresa. Between the security footage mysteriously cutting out across the Compound and the lack of tracks of evidence that this woman had even existed, Bucky was starting to wonder if _he_ was the one compromised here. He’d never had someone slip out from under him like this, especially in a facility this high-tech, and he was less than pleased at this new milestone.

By the time he made it back into the Compound, after hosing off the mud and tossing his gear into the hamper, Sam, Wanda and Bruce were waiting at the end of the hall, staring at him.

“Any luck?” Rhodes called, leaning against the hangar’s door frame, though he knew the answer.

“Negative on Theresa,” Bucky replied as he made his way down the hall. “Swept the perimeter and everything. Not a fucking whisper. From what I can tell, she got a ride from somewhere, but, even I can’t tell…”

Bucky was beside himself at not being able to track her down. More upset than anything that they’d lost their only solid (and currently living) lead on this whole case.

“I had a feeling this one wasn’t going to be easy,” Sam lamented.

“This screams high-end job, Wilson.”

Sam nodded, looking grave as he grit his teeth. “Well, the Professor just landed, so we’ll have to deal with that first.” 

Hopefully, the Professor would have something for them. Wanda had warned that he was a pretty serious telepath— the most powerful, he thought she said —which made Bucky more nervous than he’d like to admit. But, for the sake of the kid and the well-being of the team, if it brought them closer to finding these assholes, he’d do almost anything at this point. 

He knew Bruce had been sharing intel with the Westchester team in the hopes of coming to a conclusion, and the fact that they were even showing up in person was a good sign they knew more than they could say over (apparently) insecure lines. A part of him wished Stark was still around so he could have someone to direct this security rage to.

It couldn’t _all_ fall on Wilson.

Peeking out through the windows in the door to the flight deck, Bucky had to admit the giant bird on their lawn was a bit of an eyesore. Fancy tech. Had he still been there, Stark might’ve even been interested in it —if anything, he would have reverse-engineered it before they left the premises.

“Bare bones team, I think he only brought a pilot,” Bruce offered, eyes flicking back from two miniature figures on the security feed. “I’m a little disappointed. I was hoping to meet Dr. McCoy in person.”

He was going to ask how he’d be able to tell those pinpricks on the screen weren’t the Doc, but he was too busy eyeing the door. They’d shut down this wing of the building to avoid any unwanted eyes and ears, but Bucky didn’t feel any less on-edge after this morning’s revelation.

“Probably for the best. I think the kid’s probably been overwhelmed enough today,” Bucky groused. “A smaller team will do her good. Speaking of, where’s Iz?”

“In my room,” Wanda replied. “Clint and Agent Exeter are with her. I wanted to make sure we could speak freely before our group meeting, but I’ll take Xavier to see her before we get started.”

Bucky gritted his teeth and held back the less-than-nice remarks he had for Exeter at the moment, turning instead to Sam, “Speaking of, we have a hell of a lot of work to do on protocols, Wilson.”

“I know, Buck. We have some real clean-up to do when this mess is over with,” Sam sighed, seemingly catching his dissatisfied tone. “Can I count on you to help the team get up to speed security-wise?”

Was he asking for a favour because he was the squeaky wheel or because he thought he was the best guy for the job? Bucky gave him a stern look to make sure he wasn’t pulling his leg before he nodded, taking his outstretched offered hand for a shake.

“You’ve got it,” Bucky confirmed.

Bruce crossed the hall and opened the door to their guests, and Bucky watched as an older bald man rolled through in a wheelchair. A little fancier than most he’d seen, even during his time in modern-day. Wanda was the first to greet him, walking forward to touch her hand to his in respect.

“Wanda.”

“Professor.”

Bucky knew their talking out-loud as a courtesy. They’d probably already had a mile-a-minute conversation telepathically. Whatever the case, Bucky was still in work mode, eyes assessing, ears alert. No matter how comfortable he was with Wanda, or how respected the Professor was, the thought of someone else being in his head (again) made his skin crawl.

Concern crossed Wanda’s face as she caught his eye, and the Professor’s gaze soon followed.

“No parlour tricks,” Bucky warned both of them, trying to head-off their question.

“I can offer my assurance that there are no tricks to be had here. Is there any way I can put your mind more at ease, Sergeant Barnes?” the Professor asked as Wanda’s expression softened.

“No, Charles. It’s fine. We should talk for a few moments before we gather Iz and the team,” Wanda said, guiding him towards an empty office up the hall. Sam and Bruce followed.

Stomps echoed on the flight deck as Bucky remembered Xavier didn’t come alone. A familiar face stepped through the front door, closing it behind him with a grin.

“Kid,” growled a voice made of whiskey and cigarettes.

The rough and tumble short-stack in front of him was a sight for sore eyes and left him speechless. He was dressed in his finest plaid and jeans —finest, as in the only thing he owned that wasn’t tac gear. A little more jagged around the edges, a few more creases and scars, and the plaid and denim were new, but James Howlett, now Logan, looked like he just stepped out of his SHIELD file. 

More than a hundred years after the first time he’d had his picture taken.

“Thought you were more of a solo guy these days,” Bucky groused, shaking a firm hand.

“Eh, I do some teamwork now and then,” he replied as Bucky led them both into a nearby office. “Someone’s gotta do the shitty jobs.”

Plush sofas and walls of bookshelves towered over them; it was the closest thing to Stark Tower’s library— one of the only tolerable rooms in that whole building, according to Bucky. He settled himself onto a loveseat, stretching his arms across the back of the couch.

Eyes sweeping the books and portraits on the way, Logan tipped his head, grin faltering for a moment. “Sorry I couldn’t make it for the memorial,” Logan said stiffly, not looking at him. “He deserved more.”

“Steve got what he wanted,” Bucky conceded, trying to keep his tone level. “He got the life he always dreamed of.”

He got to be normal, Bucky added to himself. He fell in love, got married, probably became a dad. Probably bounced a baby on his knee and taught a kid baseball. Bucky tried to ignore the bitter taste on his tongue because as much as he wanted to feel happy for his friend, it was something he’d never get to have himself.

Logan snapped his head around, the corners of his lips drawing up in the ghost of a snarl, “And what did you get, kid?”

“I’m not a kid, Logan. Or is it Wolvie now?”

Logan sneered, rolling his eyes at the butchered nickname, “Not the way I remember it. Last time I saw ya, you were just a kid, strapped to Cap’s side in a battlefield.”

Bucky remembered that time in bits and pieces, dark nights covered in mud and gunpowder. He could picture that same smile glinting over at him in the trenches, baiting unsuspecting enemies across lines to take them out. But James Howlett was ruthless, quickly taking out groups of soldiers no matter how tight of a spot he was in.

“Well, not all of us have fought through every major war the US has been a part of.”

A Canadian among the ranks, he used to joke. Logan was a good friend and an even better ally, but Bucky was sure that bloodthirsty nature was still lurking under that too tight smile.

“Between you an’ me, there was a couple minor, classified ones too,” Logan added for good measure with a wry smile. 

He drifted to the bar cart as Bucky realized old habits did die hard. The clink of glass as he tilted the bottles and labels to the light was the only noise for a few beats. 

Logan raised a bottle to his nose, “You gonna offer the good stuff, or do I gotta pour for myself?” 

“Help yourself. Not my tab,” Bucky drawled with a flourish.

He wondered off-hand if it even hit him the same way anymore, or if he was like Steve and himself, just doing it for comfort and nostalgia. Maybe even for the burn. Logan poured himself a generous tumbler of bourbon, taking a swig and settling down in an armchair across Bucky.

“It’s always a fucking kid, eh?” Howle—Logan asked, elbows on his knees as he hunched over.

Bucky sighed, “I wouldn’t know.”

Not the way he did. Living in a school full of enhanced children, running around like idiots, he’d bet. Honestly, he was surprised Logan had the patience for that and wasn’t threatening them with his claws at every chance. Though come to think of it, he probably did.

“Nah, I think you’re forgetting Rogers was just a punk kid once too. You’ve always been this soft, Barnes. You got that from him.”

Bucky shuffled in his seat uncomfortably. The last thing he wanted to turn this into was some half-baked eulogy. He was OK not remembering every pair of enemy eyes he’d snuffed the lights out of, or the women and children, emaciated in secret medical facilities. He had enough on his conscience already, and he wasn’t one for group therapy.

“You keep sitting here, talking about it like it was the good ol’ days, but that was war,” Bucky said firmly, rough edges seeping into his tone. “That was the darkest, shittiest pit of human existence, and you willingly put yourself through that over and over again. For what?” Bucky asked no one in particular, maybe a little too biting for Logan’s liking.

Those brown eyes narrowed, leaning forward slightly, “For punks like _you_ , like you were before. So they could have a normal life, and I could handle the uglies creeping in the shadows. Isn’t that why you do what you do?”

“Some days, I forget.”

Letting out a low hum, Logan leaned back in the armchair, kicking his heels up on the coffee table.

“Wish I could,” Logan said airily like he’d said it a million times before. “Though I’m sure you’re the same way.”

He was right; nowadays, everything was committed to memory one way or another. Even the ones he’d thought he’d lost. Eidetic memory, docs called it—more of a curse than a blessing most nights.

“James?”

Both Logan and Bucky’s heads snapped to the door to find Iz standing there, looking a little shakier at the second set of eyes staring at her. What a sight she was in for. The burly man, no taller than her, perched like a heathen across the furniture, all scruffy dark hair and scowls. 

She could see the moment she regretted coming in, eyes wide and hands locked in place on the door. Bucky didn’t miss the red rims from where he sat, and it took a lot to school his expression, so he didn’t add to her nerves. It probably didn’t help she’d also just met the Professor.

That man was unnerving.

“O-oh, sorry—”

Bucky stood up quickly, putting on a softer tone, “No, it’s OK, Iz. This is Logan. Logan, Iz.”

Logan gave a half-hearted two-finger salute, “Kid.”

Iz’s eyes snapped to Bucky after a curt nod, “They, uh. They told me to tell you they’re ready for you both in the meeting room.” The words tumbled out of her mouth as lightspeed before she was out of sight and down the hall.

“‘You wouldn’t know,’ huh?” Logan teased with a shake of his head, chuckling as he downed the rest of his glass and set it on the bar cart on his way out. “You sign the adoption papers already or?”

“Shut it, shortie.”

The meeting room looked a lot more cramped with their two additions, and Bucky felt a little leery as a table-full of eyes locked onto the two newcomers.

“We miss anything?” Bucky asked Sam, who was already seated at the head of the table.

Bucky grabbed the empty chair beside Iz, patting her hand lightly as he sat down. Clint was on her other side, jaw locked. Oh, they had been talking, alright. He’d know that look anywhere. He leaned his elbow on the back of Iz’s chair, unsurprised when she shifted to lean into it.

Yeah, they’d already started. The poor kid was shaking like a leaf already.

“Nah, we’re just about to start,” Sam replied as Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “I know some of you have heard bits and pieces, but for background, Professor Charles Xavier and his team of X-Men run a school for gifted students. Mutants, or enhanced individuals as we’ve been calling them post-Accords.”

The rest of the table nodded along, but Bucky’s eyes drifted over to Wanda. She watched him — _them_ , really, him and Iz— and he wasn’t sure if it was because of something that was already said or if she was waiting for his reaction.

“There have been a whole host of mutant-related issues in the past few years, but unfortunately people with the X-gene have been subjected to exploitation, and unfortunately experimentation,” Sam looked more serious now. Bucky was starting to get the feeling he was right about his hunch. “Professor, please feel free to take it away.”

“Thank you, Captain Wilson. I’d like to say we haven’t seen situations like this, but unfortunately, the world isn’t so,” he looked to Iz with warm sympathy, like he’d seen her story a million times before. “It was likely that Isolde was involved in a group we’ve had some previous experience with. Primarily, they abduct or sometimes purchase mutant children to experiment on and exploit for financial or political gain.”

This was starting to sound a lot like the Soldier program, the way Xavier was wording it. The way his eyes kept drifting to Bucky’s. It made him uncomfortable, thinking they’d do that to kids. That they’d do that at all.

“Empaths and telepaths are particularly susceptible, as they can influence people into doing others’ bidding,” Xavier explained. “And that was likely why Iz was one of the few who survived.”

Rhodey chimed in, voice a little tight, “Sorry, so you already knew about this Neverland place? You found it?”

“Yes,” the Professor confirmed. “There were… less than a handful of survivors.”

“How many were brought there?”

“We’ve estimated about 600 children, separated into groups of 50 to 100, and 150 or so staff.”

The silence that enveloped the room was deafening. Clint’s knuckles were white on the edge of his armrest. Iz refused to look to the front of the room, curled up in the corner of the rolling chair as Bucky took her hand in his. It took a lot not to tense up, he knew it’d only make her reaction worse, but it was hard knowing those numbers, imagining that level of loss just hours from where they sat.

“We’ve been tracking some of the remaining children from Neverland, the few that we had reason to believe survived,” Xavier went on. “Though they are few and far between. They’ve ended up in the hands of mob bosses, criminal organizations, underground political parties.”

“We got a few of ‘em,” Logan added, gruff voice carrying across from the corner of the room where he stood. “But they were in rough shape. Most of ‘em couldn’t defend themselves out on their own.”

The Professor nodded, “Indeed. Not helped by the inhibiting implants they installed at the facility, just behind their ears. I’ve been able to pinpoint where exactly the devices are entwined in the brain, so Dr. Banner, we may be able to find a solution together to remove them safely.”

“I’d like nothing more,” Bruce said, looking a little more hopeful.

He could almost see Iz turn green at the thought of having to go under the knife to fix this. Guilt rang in his gut. Should they have done this meeting without her? He started to wonder just how much all of this talk, all of this disturbing situation was news to her or only validating what she’d been through.

At least they were trying to get to a solution so that others could avoid the same fate. 

Rhodes looked a little impatient at the tangent, probably expecting more a military briefing than a science experiment. “So who’s behind this?”

Professor Xavier switched the slide on the projector as he cleared his throat. Iz was stiff at a board in the seat beside him, wide eyes staring at it in horror.

“Iz might have known him as Doctor Nathaniel Essex, we know him as William Stryker,” Professor Xavier explained, looking at Logan and saying the name like it was familiar.

Bucky could have sworn he’d heard that name before, and if the dark look on Logan’s face was any indication, there was untold history there. 

“These days, he goes by Mister Sinister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ‘kid’ line is referenced from a [comic book conversation](https://pasmonblog.tumblr.com/post/618865038532427777) in _Fallen Son: The Death Of Captain America (2007)_. I’ve always wanted to see these two characters with so much history together on screen, so I had to include this little (ok, maybe I turned it into a long) moment.


	11. Chapter 11

The whole room was silent as the information sank in, a dozen pairs of eyes around the place already scanning the information projected on the screens. Mister Sinister looked like he lived up to his name. Pale skin, red eyes, jet black hair and the cartoonish evil wardrobe to match.

“His most noteworthy genetic modification may help explain why it’s so difficult to capture him. Sinister has the ability to shape-shift at a cellular level, allowing him to take any form he chooses.”

Wanda snuck a glance at James across the table, watching his jaw tighten at the news. Iz avoided looking up, knees tucked against her chest as she played with the hem of her sweater sleeve. Wanda could feel her heart racing and almost expected a wave of panic to wash over the room. 

The Professor continued at the front of the room, “You may also know his daughter, Claudine Renko?”

The slide changed, and Wanda could see James sit up straighter as he stared down the projection. The muscle in his jaw hopped, and she could practically feel him grinding him teeth from across the room. Sure, the face was a little different, dark hair down instead of up in a bun, but Wanda would have known those eyes anywhere, even if they were red instead of blue.

James growled from across the table, “Theresa.”

She must have had the same powers as her father. The ability to change appearance at will would have given her a clear edge sneaking into their facility. 

“From what we’ve been able to piece together, she also had an interest in Neverland,” Charles explained. “And was likely overseeing the progress of the children.”

Wanda’s heart thumped against her rib cage as the realization that this was bigger than them, that the Avengers couldn’t just swoop in and fix this overnight started to set in. There were peoples’ lives at risk — _children’s_ — and the entire team of X-Men hadn’t been able to find them. Sure, they had maybe offered a piece of the puzzle, but this would take time yet.

“Charming,” James groaned, looking restless as he hunched over the table, leaning on his elbows. “Well, the location in Canada’s cleared out, right? So, where are they now? And where does Colcord fit into this?”

“How do _you_ know that name?” Logan asked though it wasn’t to James; Wanda could tell from the softer tone. He was staring precisely at Iz, still huddled in the office chair, one hand gripping James’s as she seemed to shrink into herself.

James’s eyes locked on the girl, and Wanda realized this hadn’t come up in their initial team discussion or in their pre-meeting with Xavier. Perhaps the image had jogged a memory she didn’t know she had, but those wide eyes said it all.

“I remember him,” Iz offered stiffly, resting her chin on her knees. “He was always there during the experiments. I think he was in charge of them. He had these scars…”

Wanda had seen Logan’s protective side in full-force. No matter how gruff his exterior had been, no matter how much he complained about the teenagers running rampant on the Westchester campus, he was all heart and looked after all of those children like they were his own. She could see glimpses of that here, the way he lowered his voice to ask Iz the question, the way his jaw locked in place at the answer.

Logan _knew_ Colcord, she realized. And if he knew him and he was worried, there was no telling what nameless horrors Colcord had inflicted before, in previous lives. 

And suddenly, it seemed like fate had intertwined them more than she could have ever thought possible.

“Malcolm Colcord was a witness of the original Weapon X program, the one that altered Logan,” Professor Xavier explained to the room, sensing the confusion. “He’s been intent on replicating the program, an act of revenge on mutants for the attack he faced at the Weapon X facility that left him with those scars.”

“I’ve been after him for years,” Logan seethed, and the whole room could feel the long history there. “He had his hook in my brother. My fucking son. Me. But he always manages to slither away.”

Wanda knew that look too. The look that said he would hear the satisfying crunch of Colcord’s neck under his boot. She had no idea Logan had a son but did know about some of the seedier cloning initiatives that popped up after Weapon X’s original incarnation was burned to the ground.

“Our team has uncovered a recent lead on him, specifically,” the Professor continued. “And we’re hoping that acting on it might bring us all a little closer to closing this loop. But it’s imperative we leave today, as he has a tendency to escape. I assume, Sergeant Barnes, that you’d want to be a part of this, along with Wanda?” He looked to both of them for confirmation.

“You betcha,” James said as Wanda nodded.

“I want in on this, too,” Logan growled before turning to the Professor. “Who knows who Colcord has his hooks in now. No doubt, he’s sitting pretty waiting for us.”

James met Wanda’s eyes for a moment, just to make sure she alright with the arrangement. With a nod and a flick of his lip, they were both silently in agreement from across the table. 

Someone flicked the lights to the room back on, the projector receding into the ceiling as everyone around the room started shuffling.

“OK, team. Meet back here in thirty. Logan, I assume your gear’s back on the bird?” Sam asked.

Logan nodded, “And I’ll have to give the rest of the team an update before we head out. See you then.”

Iz was already tucking into James’s side, his hand rubbing circles into her back as the rest of the Avengers were assigned duties. Wanda was torn, wishing she could whisk her off to her room to assure her everything would be alright.

“I can take the kid,” Clint offered to Wanda as she tucked in her chair. “I’ll show her our video game setup and keep her distracted. Go suit up and all that.”

She could tell from the look in his eyes that he was a little shaken up too. It wasn’t unusual for Clint to try to help, however he could; when everything else felt helpless. Ever since Pietro, Clint had always been there for her, even in small ways.

“Thanks, Clint,” she offered, patting him on the shoulder. “You can keep her in my room if you want. She’s more comfortable there, I think.”

Her uniform was in the locker room anyway, and she didn’t take much set up as far as gear went. Wanda waved to Iz as Clint led her out of the room and down the hall, leaving James at her side, mouth by her ear.

“Can I borrow you a minute?”

James was quick to pull her aside in the hallway, out of sight of the other team members, and Wanda, too, could feel that pull towards him. That sense of urgency before they left the tarmac. 

James guided her towards his room, a collection of muted greys, silvers and blues and closed the door behind them. She’d never had the chance to explore his suite; from the half-empty bookshelves to the lack of mementos on display, he likely only used it to sleep. James wasn’t one for trinkets, not like Steve was.

“What was it you wanted to talk about?” Wanda asked, smile a little playful as she closed the space between them.

“Is Iz going to be OK? When we leave?” James asked softly.

She sobered at that, thinking of her talk with Iz earlier in the day, and how her hand clamped down on James’s during the meeting. James seemed to see her expression change, watching closely as she sat on the foot of his bed, sinking into the duvet.

“Did something happen?” James asked, taking her hand in his.

Wanda bit her lip, not wanting to worry him, “She was sick, throwing up when I got to her.”

“While I was out on patrol? Is she OK?”

Wanda’s lip quirked up at his concern, “Iz is fine. It’s a side effect of her power. Professor Xavier seems to think she’ll be quite powerful once she gets a hold of them.”

And the inhibitor out of her head. That had been the Professor’s primary concern, as none of them knew the long-term effects of that kind of technology. Xavier also mentioned her ability to siphon telekinetic powers around her to further boost the strength, which probably explained their stamina when she first arrived. 

But he’d been quite impressed during their first meeting; it reminded her of when she first met Xavier, which seemed like eons ago now.

“Clint’s going to take care of her while we’re away,” Wanda explained, and she could still feel that tremor within her. “He said he’s going to show her how to play video games.”

James huffed a laugh, “Yeah, I guess he’s happy he has someone he can win against now.”

Wanda chuckled, watching his blue come out in eyes and the crinkles spread from the corners. Knowing they were short on time, she tried not to get too distracted by the warmth pooling in her face.

“We should probably get ready,” Wanda started, getting up from the bed and heading towards the door. 

But James quickly closed the gap between them, hesitating for a moment as his eyes flicked to the floor.

“Listen, this—” he started, and she almost had to hold back an eye roll.

“James, I swear if you’re about to ask me if I know what I’m doing here too, I—”

“ _Too_?” he looked intrigued, mouth quirking into a smirk at her annoyance.

Wanda sighed, “Sam.”

James sounded a little dejected with his, “Ah.”

They were close enough to allow her fingers to play with the hem of his shirt as she looked up at him, “I know what I want, James. Sam’s little talk isn’t about to scare me off.”

“Good,” James gruffed, tipping her head up with his thumb and cupping the sides of her face. “Makes this easier.”

He dipped down to capture her lips with his scruff tickling the skin on her face. Her fingers tangled in the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him closer, deeper, and a little more urgent than either of them intended. They were both breathless by the time they came up for air, soft smiles mirrored as they stared back at each other.

“I didn’t want to leave without doing that,” James gasped, breath tickling her still-wet lips.

“You could have led with that,” Wanda teased, gently pushing his hair out of his face.

James chuckled, “Nah, too much of a coward.” Backing her against the wall as he made his way towards the door, he added, “One more? For good luck?”

Wanda’s hands skimmed his sides, looking up at him through her eyelashes, “Mm. Luck, huh?”

“Yeah, seem to have a lot of it these days,” James murmured, pecking her sweetly before going back for a second, longer kiss.

“No,” Wanda sighed against his lips. “ _That_ is all talent.”

Feeling a little like she was floating, Wanda headed towards the locker room, stripping out of her street clothes and into her uniform. She was just zipping up the jacket as the clock ticked down, nearing the thirty-minute mark. By the time she made it into the hall outside the flight deck, Sam, Logan and James were already waiting there.

“Make sure Barton takes care of the kid, Wilson,” James warned, placing a heavy hand on the back with a clap.

“She’s in the safest place she can be right now,” Sam shot back.

But James didn’t look so convinced, “Yeah, well, that didn’t exactly help last time.”

Sam shot him a knowing nod, “I’ll take care of her, man. Professor’s here too. Do your thing, get your guy. Take care of yourselves.”

Wanda didn’t miss the way Sam’s eyes slid over to her as well.

Bucky followed his gaze, “We always do.”

“If we’re done making eyes, we have a mission?” Logan groused from the door, now dressed in black tac gear. “I’ll fly.”

“You just want to see all the fun tech Stark left behind,” James teased with a glint. “Your team’s stuck in the ’90s from what I hear.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan muttered.

The flight was a short one. They all knew this wasn’t a fight to end them. This was the first mission of a long line of questioning, just one step closer to the awful truth. But James and Wanda had to see it through, if only for Iz’s sake.

They landed in a nearby field, cloaking the jet before continuing on foot.

Wanda had been worried they might have missed the place. The building was ordinary enough —forgettable— looking like a run-of-the-mill office building in a quiet suburb. There were cars in the parking lot and decorative ferns at the entrance. But Wanda could sense what had been done there like the walls were soaked in it. She could feel the remnants of what had been. 

The pain and the agony, the torture, the death. 

James led the team, Logan at the rear, sticking tight to the walls and corners as they went through the eerily empty building. The overhead lights hung by threads, concrete walls pocked by bullets and shrapnel. Whatever happened here, it was no ordinary fight, not with the scorch marks on the linoleum tiles and claw marks on the doorframes. 

It didn’t take psychic abilities to see that this had been a prison, a war zone, and a torture chamber for too many. James’s jaw clenched under the weight of it all, muscle hopping in his neck as he led them carefully forward.

But worst of all, it was too quiet.

“This feels like a trap,” Bucky groused as they trudged forward, slow and steady.

He wasn’t about to take a chance, and Wanda could see his eyes flick to hers every few minutes, checking if she picked anything up. But no matter how much she reached out in, snaking red trails through the cavernous structure, she couldn’t feel a thing. Not until she reached a locked door.

“Two floors down,” Wanda said quietly. “There’s a stairwell to the right. It’s the only locked door in the place.”

The basement was just as barren as the rest of the place, cavernous and echoing as their footfalls bounced against the bare concrete walls. It looked like an abandoned medical facility, with hallways wide enough for gurneys and swinging doors.

One shove with his vibranium arm, and the locked door swung open to reveal someone sitting in a chair in the center of the room, waiting for them.

“Ah, Weapon X,” he called out with a familiar smile. “Welcome back.”

Malcolm Colcord wasn’t much to look at, had it not been for the trailing scars marring his expression. Pinching and pulling and tugging the skin on his face until the grin seemed almost painful. His eyes were locked on Logan.

“I see you’ve brought me more subjects,” Colcord crooned. “How efficient.”

“You sound pretty cocky for someone who’s about to bleed out with no intervention.”

“I think you may have the wrong idea. _I’m_ not the one who’s going to bleed out here.”

The gunfire started halfway through the sentence, ricocheting off the walls and carving craters into the floor. Logan and James were quick to take out the two turrets on opposite ends of the room.

Wanda missed one as she got her powers up a moment late, the impact sending her back a few feet. But even though she could feel the trickle of blood escaping from the wound, hear the pulsing in her ears, she couldn’t lower her hands.

“Wanda?”

She could just make out the concern in James’s voice. But Wanda was done waiting for another distraction to come out of Colcord’s mouth, red swirls circling the man in the center of the room, lifting him a few feet off the ground.

“Oh, bub. You pissed off the wrong witch,” Logan husked from the corner with a bit of admiration in his tone.

Wanda gave him everything he had, lashing out for herself, for Pietro, for Iz, for all the mutants harmed and experimented on, eyes glowing red as she put him straight to sleep before he could pull the trigger on anyone else. It took everything inside of Wanda not to snap his neck at that moment, feeling that rage bubbling deep in her gut. 

It would have been easy. Too easy.

Red receding back into her hands, Wanda was left panting, hunched over with her palm pressed into her side. She hissed as she pushed against the soaked fabric, trying to apply pressure, but she couldn’t find the strength.

“Hey, hey,” James soothed in a scratchy voice. “He’s out. It’s over. You did it.”

Wanda felt like that one move had taken everything out of her; body spent and aching. Bucky pulled Wanda into his chest just as her knees gave out, replacing her hand with his to keep pressure on the bullet wound. She didn’t even know what was happening. With a sob, she latched onto the back of his uniform with white-knuckled fists and let him carry her out. 

Watching Logan toss Colcord over his shoulder was oddly satisfying. But they all knew this wasn’t the end. This was one piece of a 10,000 piece puzzle that neither would solve in the next week.

But, at least it was something. And it had brought the two teams together in a show of solidarity.

By the time they made it back to the jet, Logan and James had already called ahead to both teams. Logan tossed Colcord into a holding area on board with a thump before quickly getting them up in the air. 

“At least it was through and through,” James muttered as he pulled Wanda into his lap. 

Taking out the first aid kit, he gently cleaned around the wound, applying a bandage to keep it clean while they were in transit. Wanda couldn’t get the thought out of her head that it had been too easy like they’d been offering Colcord as some sacrifice to the cause. But her brain was getting foggier, and she was tired.

James’s fingers interlaced with hers, holding her a little tighter as they were jostled by turbulence.

“What did I say about getting yourself hurt, little witch?” James whispered, just loud enough for her to hear over the hum of the QuinJet.

Wanda hummed, leaning her head on his chest and looking out to see the clouds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally got a kiss!! Also, we have just one chapter left in this series. I'm going to be a little sad to see it end.
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely comments, kudos and bookmarks.


	12. Chapter 12

Battered, bruised, and still dripping blood, Bucky and Wanda were greeted by Iz at the loading dock, Bruce close behind. Their expressions immediately dropped as they spotted Wanda in his arms, and in a heartbeat, Bruce was already crossing the tarmac, chastising Bucky for not requesting a gurney. Iz was close behind, jogging to keep up, all glassy eyes and tight mouth.

“I’m fine. James can take me, Bruce. He’s surprisingly gentle,” Wanda murmured, too tired to argue. He hadn’t even been sure she was still awake, watching as she fell in and out of consciousness on the ride back. Seeing the wide, scared green eyes beside them, Wanda assured, “Iz, I’m fine, I promise. I’ll just need some rest.”

Iz didn’t look relieved as she looked on at Wanda, a little limper than she’d like in Bucky’s grasp. He could see the telltale wobble in her lip, eyes searching his for any comfort as Bucky’s stomach twisted in his belly.

“She’s strong; she’ll be just fine. Here, follow me, and we can stay with her together,” Bucky offered, carefully walking towards medical so he could set Wanda down on a bed.

The medics and nurses were already swarming past them, setting up the machines and the equipment they’d need to tend to the gunshot wound. This was all familiar territory to Bucky, especially post-mission, but it didn’t make his heart sink any less at the thought of Wanda needing to be stitched up in the first place.

“Did you get him?” Iz asked quietly.

“Yeah, Logan’s got him. The X-Men are going to take the investigation from here, but we’ll still be looped in if they find anything or need help in the future,” Bucky replied, watching Iz ease into a less rigid stance. “How did you like the Professor?”

Iz’s eyes flashed concern like she was hesitant to tell him the whole truth, “He was nice.”

Even in teenage form, he knew that look: the fear of betrayal or jealousy, maybe even abandonment. Iz was scared to tell him she wanted to take the Professor up on his offer. Now, he’d be lying if he didn’t have that familiar sensation in his gut at the thought of losing this girl he’d spent the week looking after. But that was normal, right?

 _Human_ , even?

“Might be helpful for you to get a hold of your powers,” Bucky mused evenly, watching the fear subside from her eyes and her body become less rigid. “And it’s not like Westchester’s that far away anyway.”

Iz brightened up at her next nod, “Maybe.”

But Bucky knew it was already a done deal in her head. He couldn’t blame her. Once she got the implant removed, who knew what kind of power she’d have, what the inhibitor was holding back all this time. It was only natural for her to want to develop that, want to get the alien device out of her body and reclaim it for her own.

Bucky could understand that better than most.

The gurney was ready and waiting for them as they turned the corner to the medical wing, nurses flanking either side as he gingerly set Wanda down, and they flew into working on her. The team rolled her into a room as Bucky and Iz watched on from the observation window.

“Can I go in?” Iz asked, pointing through the glass.

Bucky looked at a nearby nurse for approval, who begrudgingly nodded.

“As long as you stay in the seat and stay out of the way of the doctor and nurses,” Bucky said gently. “I’ll be right here.”

With a quick nod, she scooted in, perched in the chair as the nurses worked on Wanda. Iz looked less scared now, a little less young, and Bucky wondered offhand how many times she’d be in rooms like these, with bloody dressings and medical staff. Was that her old normal? There was still so much they didn’t know about her and now she was leaving—

“She’s a good kid.”

Bucky almost missed Clint sidle up beside him as he watched the flurry of diagnostics and medical equipment in the medical room.

“You know, she was scared at first that you two weren’t going to come back,” Clint remarked quietly. “I had to explain you’d never let that happen. She hasn’t seen you in action, huh?”

“Probably better that way,” Bucky muttered, eyes drifting to the intensity on Iz’s face as she observed Wanda’s care. “Was she OK?”

Barton shifted a little in his stance, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes didn’t leave the room, darting between Wanda and Iz with the same fatherly look he’d seen back on that first day with the girl. Maybe a little less anger this time around.

“Yeah, I think her and Xavier really clicked,” Clint replied evenly, watching Bucky’s reaction from the corner of his eye. “Not as much as you and Wanda have the last week or so, though.”

Here it was, the talk Bucky had long been waiting for. 

Ever since Sokovia, Clint had all but taken on Wanda as one of his own kids, more than just a teammate or friend. He had been there for her when no one else could when she lost her everything, and Bucky could respect that. They had this bond that was hard to quantify; it wasn’t really in time spent together or physical affection or even quips back and forth. Bucky had noticed the way he always seemed to look out for her, her interests and safety, just dropping in when it looked like she needed a pick-me-up.

Barton was a lot more observant than he let on —not that it would take a whole lot of observation to see how much things had changed between Bucky and Wanda— and this was his way of letting him know.

“Yeah, well,” Bucky started, not knowing quite how to phrase it. “She’s something else.”

They watched the doctor assess the wound, looking for any signs of infection or additives to the bullet, just in case. At this point, the Avengers had come across a lot stranger, but from the expression on his face, it didn’t look like anything out of the ordinary today. The medical team was just finishing up the final stitches and cleaning around the wound as Barton decided to spit it out already.

“Something worth protecting?”

“She doesn’t need my protection,” Bucky replied evenly, turning his head to look the man in the eyes.

Clint smiled, the kind that stretched all the way up his face. 

“Right answer.”

The nurses dressed the wound, taping the bandage in place and pulling her sheets up to her chin as they left. Iz scooted her chair closer, now that the room was empty, taking Wanda’s hand in her own. 

Another beat of silence passed before Bucky found his voice again, “That it? Not going to threaten my life? An arrow through the eye if I pull an asshole move? Nothing?”

Clint chuckled, “Like you said, Wanda doesn’t need protection, least of all mine. God help the man who pisses that woman off. I just wanted to be sure you knew what you were getting yourself into.”

He was right; she was a force beyond even nature. They all knew it. And Barton had known him long enough to know he wasn’t going to mess around with this. 

“I’m not as dumb as you pretend to be, Barton,” Bucky shot back with a grin. “But it’s good to know she’ll always have us in her corner.”

“Your corner too, asshole,” Clint huffed with a laugh, slapping him on the shoulder. “Get some rest. You look like shit.”

And though it might have looked strange to any outsider, sitting and joking around out in the waiting room, this was standard for the Compound. Bucky nodded, pulling the other chair across the room so he could sit beside Iz.

“You look tired.”

It was enough to give a guy a complex.

Those wide eyes were taking in every scrape and wrinkle, the speckled dirt on his face and the way he watched over Wanda. But more than that, she was comfortable enough to joke with him —something she wouldn’t have considered a week ago.

With a smile and a ruffle of her hair, Bucky replied, “That’s just my face.”

* * *

It was two days later when Professor Xavier sent word from Westchester about Iz’s potential training. He’d offered to fast-track her for a couple semesters after they performed the inhibitor extraction in the safety of the Mansion. 

Iz was all on-board with the idea but a little subdued in front of Wanda and Bucky. And while there hadn’t been a blow-out, there had been a bit more tension than usual between the three of them lately. Sam had noticed it too, apparently, itching to give him the motivational speech he’d tucked away for just the occasion.

He’d probably scripted it in his bathroom mirror.

“She’s already in it, Barnes. You heard her. She’s seventeen, and she deserves to make her own decision,” Sam murmured as they tracked Wanda and Iz across the room. If he was trying not to come off too preachy, he’d nearly failed. “You really think you can keep her locked up for a year? She’s already got you wrapped around her finger.”

“Does not,” Bucky said a little petulantly, losing the fight to keep a smile off his face. 

He’d already warmed up to the idea himself, knowing that it was better to a hold of your powers than let someone else take that control out of your hands. Plus, the Professor was very clear in stating she’d get the best care on-site, with a line-up of mutant Professors and support workers on staff if she needed anything.

Truth was, he was happy to help empower her, give her the freedom of choice after a lifetime without; it was just hard to say it out loud without feeling like he was pushing her out of the nest.

So to speak.

“Nah, I’d never leave her defenceless if she wanted to learn. I figured in a few weeks she’d get bored of playing house here anyway.”

“Oh. Are you still playing?” Sam quipped with a toothy grin.

Bucky shoved him a little harder than intended with his shoulder, sending Sam stumbling slightly.

But that night, they sat down and talked it out with Iz over dinner. After a little hemming and hawing, and after she realized Wanda and Bucky were encouraging her to make the decision for herself, Iz agreed to take the Professor up on his offer.

“And if you don’t like it, you can always come back,” Wanda offered with a small smile in Bucky’s direction. “To a real room of your own and everything.”

While she knew Iz would fit right in, showing there was an escape option, if necessary, seemed to take a weight off her shoulders. And the prospect of getting to decorate her room before she left for Westchester made her grin wider than he’d ever seen her before.

Iz nearly leapt into Wanda and Bucky’s arms for a group hug, setting off a pulsing warmth that stretched from his chest to his toes.

It just felt _right_.

Wanda had taken her to the nearby town for a little shopping, getting her some weather-appropriate clothes and supplies to take along with her. To Bucky, it felt like an echo of the first day of school. Fresh notebooks and backpacks and freshly-shined shoes. Packed bag ready to grab and go at the door. The team had left Wanda and Bucky to do the hand-off. 

Maybe Sam expected them to get emotional or something.

But it didn’t feel real to Bucky, having her leave, even when she stood with her luggage in her hands, waiting by the flight deck door for the X-Men’s bird.

Wanda had gone into mother mode, already giving Iz the rundown of the situation at the manor, “Kitty Pryde is a close friend of mine, so if you need anything, you can always go to her. And we’re only a text away, OK?”

“I know, I know,” Iz groaned, having heard this particular tidbit at least a half dozen times in the past few days.

“And you’ll call or text?”

“I’ll _text_ you,” Iz assured with a wry smile only a teenager could give.

Bucky scooped her up into a hug, legs dangling in the air, and she giggled, “Take care of yourself. We’ll be here.”

“Or halfway around the world on some secret mission,” Iz shot back knowingly.

Bucky huffed a laugh, “Wanda’s got my back, and I’ve got hers, so we’ll be fine.”

“What about Clint?” she asked with a giggle as he set her back down on the ground.

“Clint’s on his own.”

Wanda shoved him playfully for the potshot as a lone figure wandered out of the just-landed jet. Logan didn’t leave the tarmac, shooting Bucky a two-finger salute from a few yards away, a silent promise to take care of his— _the_ kid. 

None of them said goodbye as Iz crossed the tarmac, backpack and rolling luggage in tow. Bucky and Wanda both watched the plane take-off again, beyond the clouds and out of sight before he realized they were holding hands. They passed the training fields in silence as they wound their way back to the building, watching the recruits running drills led by Sam.

“You run a tight ship, Sergeant,” Wanda said playfully, wrapping an arm around his waist.

They’d gotten more comfortable since the Colcord op, and as news of their closeness started to make its way around the Compound in whispers. 

“It’s Sam’s ship,” he replied, but he couldn’t fight the smile creeping up.

Wanda hummed, “That’s what most people may think, but I happen to know better.”

She’d wound herself around him, vibranium arm draped over her shoulder as she leaned into his chest. Neither could explain how she fit so well —how _they_ fit so well together, but they were eager to take advantage of it.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky said in a low voice, eyebrow cocked.

Wanda shot him a soft smile and looked out into the horizon.

“You did well with Iz today. She trusts you.”

“You read that?”

Wanda admonished him with a chuckle, “You trust me better than that.”

He squeezed her a little closer, hearing her heartbeat pick up as he traced the bare skin of her arm. The tightness in his chest, the one that tugged on his insides as Iz boarded the plane, started to unravel under Wanda.

“I do,” he said quietly. “It’s just been a rough few weeks.”

“Adjusting to a new environment is always hard,” Wanda said. “She’s getting used to it, like any other teenager.”

It became a little easier to breathe, to think clearly when he wasn’t worried, frantically analyzing Iz’s expression to make sure she was comfortable and safe. When he wasn’t worried about what the next thing was going to go wrong. When he had these quiet moments, just the two of them, between the chaos of training and missions.

He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands, “God, what did we do to ourselves? Adopting a teenager before even making this official.”

“Oh, we’re official now?” Wanda chuckled, fingertips drifting up and under his shirt.

“We can be,” Bucky said quietly, pressing a kiss into her hair. “I figured we were basically there.”

There was a split second of silence when Bucky wondered if maybe he’d said too much and broken their spell, but Wanda didn’t hesitate.

“I’m yours. Always was.”

And Bucky Barnes was a lot of things, but he was just wise enough to know not to go screwing with things that just _work_.

Especially not when they worked this well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s it! That’s the end. Thank you so much for following along as I fell deeper in love with this pairing.
> 
> Special thanks to @treaddelicately, because this series would still be sitting in my drafts if it wasn’t for her. Honestly, if it wasn’t for her interest and encouragement, I don’t think I would have finished it, but I’m so glad I did!
> 
> As for what’s next for me, I’m working on another Winterwitch series behind the scenes. It’s a jukebox reality TV/musician AU called The Sound Of You And Me. I don’t have an exact ETA, but I’m hoping to get the first chapter posted in early November.
> 
> I also do a “Fanfic Friday” post [on my tumblr](https://pasmonblog.tumblr.com/) every week that features updates on WIPs, if you want to find out the status of any of my projects. I’ve also posted a couple of Winterwitch one-shots, and have some more coming down the pipe.
> 
> So yes, if you enjoyed this, I hope to see you again soon! Thank you so much for reading 💜

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! All comments, kudos and bookmarks are loved and cherished.
> 
> You can also find me on [tumblr](https://pasmonblog.tumblr.com/), where I post comic book content, work updates, and behind-the-scenes commentary.
> 
> 08/11: Bumped this up to 12 chapters as it was feeling a little rushed at the mid-way point.


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